Just a poem I wrote for a class. Enjoy and drop a review if you have the time

The Wild Card

Take a bow, son of man

Sometimes, things do go according to plan

You can smile as the city starts to scream

Because that's how you like her best, uncoiling at the seam

Take a bow, son of disarray

The world is your jungle, the people your prey

You slice to add some colour, seductive red on black

Because you are a force of nature, and can't be held back

Take a bow, son of Gotham

Without laughter and strife you'd feel numb

You lick your jagged lips, and flash a toothy grin

Because your favourite games are the ones that no on can win

Here's you encore, oh native son,

The world will be ashes before you're done

You don't want power, and you don't want to rule

Because you're just an archetype, a wise man disguised as a fool