So this is the introduction. Sorta. It's the poem I felt the need to write that inspired me to write the story in the first place.
Before anyone says anything, no, the words are not meant to rhyme, the poem is meant more about expression and the way the main character of this fic sees the world than on the words themselves sounding pretty when you read it.
This fic is just an experiment on my part to integrate an OC character of mine into the Batman world. I make no promises about the story itself once we get started except to say that there will only be the one OC, and the rest will all be Batman characters.
Not everything will be based on the movies, in fact, a lot of this will come from the Batman: The Animated Series that I grew up on as a child. I have actually yet to see the third movie at all so…
The chapters will be short, and I don't know how often I will update.
This introduction is just the Poem, nothing else. I'll post the first chapter in a few days.
The_life_of_a_line_is_dull_and_grim.
Arkham Asylum
Rooms made of steel bars
Windows where they watch
Accusing eyes looking down
Like predators at prey
A bed bolted down
White and cold like snow
Chains to hold and trap
Wet with blood and tears
Jackets not for warmth
Held tight across pale skin
Arms bound to body
Stuck against hard ribs
Doctors in white coats
Apathetic and cruel
Not here to heal sick
But contain broken monsters
Needles glint in bright light
Filled with poison
Made to stop action
But not silence voices
Screams no one hears
Invisible claws and teeth
Whispers in the walls
A cage of the mind
There is a man with a coin
One side normal
One side not
A friend of Lady Chance
A woman with a rose
A lover of the plants
Framed by auburn locks
And vengeful green eyes
A scarecrow without a field
Muttering in the night
Tinkering with chemicals
Making men scream
A sphinx of constant riddles
Playing with puzzles
Asking strange questions
Never giving answers
A lady of feline nature
Who purrs when happy
A lover of shine and sparkle
Thieving and thriving
A penguin in black
With gentlemanly words
Speaking of guns and jewels
And dancing tunelessly
A blue man
With cold skin
An icy heart
Complaining of heat
A talking crocodile
With snapping jaws
Seeking the taste of flesh
Roaring in hunger
A sweet Harlequin
Pretty and blonde
Painted red and black
With giggles and grins
An every-laughing clown
Like a wild dog off chains
Made of purple and green
And scarred yellow smiles
Sometimes a bat
Hidden in shadows
With a rough voice
And harsh fists
And me
Shattered and broken
Hiding in darkness
Waiting for nothing
Eyes to watch
Invisible to theirs
Ears to hear secrets
But no voice to tell them
I watch
I listen
In my silence
I wait unseen
The_life_of_a_line_is_dull_and_grim.
And there we have it.
Done for now.
-Hathan