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
