I've seen the young Grayson to bed
Master Bruce.  My, he looked quite dead
Tonight.  Was it Harvey again
With his low level goons? Sir, when
Will the two of you learn to stay
Put at home and just keep away
From those troublemakers? I think
Rather than falling off the brink
Of civility, you should let
Gordon and the rest of them net
Such thugs.  Yes of course I will mend
The holes in the cape.  Will you send
Ms. Kyle roses again this year,
Or shall I arrange another
Gift for her birthday?  Very well,
Roses it is.  I cannot tell
Any longer how you can keep
Up with this life without some sleep
Sir.  I shall fetch you some ice for
Those bruises, though I suspect more
Are hidden where you will not show
Even me.  Are you up to go
To the office today, or should
I call you in ill?  If you would
Sit still for a moment I might
Be able to stitch that gash.  Night
Is not kind to you sir, it seems;
Though how can I argue with dreams
Of angry young men carried through
Their adulthood?  I have known you
For all of your life, Master Bruce,
But I must say what is the use
Of putting yourself through such pain
Every day?  That night and that rain
Will not be erased in such ways,
Only compounded.  Though I praise
You for your strength, it may be wise
To put vengeance to bed.  My eyes
Have seen a great many things, though
None more insistent.  Do you know
The pride I felt as I watched you
Grow from young boy to great man? Do
You know how all this while you were
To me as my own son?  While sure
I know that I am not your real
Father, quite all the same I feel
Responsible for all you've done
And set yourself to do.  A son
I have not bore, though if I may
A son in you I've gained.  Today
Though sir, I'm growing old, and not
As spry as I once was.  A lot
Has changed since you were young.  I fear
That I have not much time left here
Upon this earth.  I will not be
Here much longer to oversee
The workings of this household, nor
Will I be more the protector
Of brash young men with heavy hearts
Who tend towards the vengeful arts.
As I have aged I've come to see
That you, sir, are my legacy;
But I do not wish to be known
As Father of the Bat.  My own
Small wishes lie within the hopes
That you might put away your ropes
And belts and masks and cars.  That you
Might make your peace with all those who
So long ago damaged your life,
But not destroyed.  Perhaps a wife
And children of your own at last
Would give cause to bury your past
Within that cave you frequent, not
To mention sow within this plot
The seeds of your future.  You too
Will not live forever and to
Go on further thus is to make
Again in vain the same mistake
With your life I have made with mine.
I've failed you sir.  I let the vine
Of vengeance strangle off my sense
In memory of your parents
Rather than find the strength inside
To raise you properly.  We hide
Here within Wayne Manor's grounds, dead
To the current world.  In my head
And I am sure in yours as well
These thirty years have not passed.  Tell
Me that in all this time you did
Not wish just once you could be rid
Of this burden you bring on to
Your shoulders, that just one time you
Have not felt as though all you've done
Has been for naught.  We have not won
This war we strated, nor will we
Ever.  I've been able to see
The longer you've been the Dark Knight,
The stronger the villains you fight
Relentlessly have grown.  Maybe
Gotham's decay to anarchy
Has roots within its hero.  You
Have been the people's beacon, true,
And you have given hope to those
Endless orphaned children.  Who knows
What might have been had they not died
For criminal greed.  You denied
Yourself the chance to ever see
What other greatness you could be;
But sir, I feel it's not too late
To change.  You have the Wayne estate,
Your health, and iron will of course,
And all the tools you'd need.  To force
Batman upon Bruce Wayne much more
Would be to deny and ignore
Further who you truly are.  I
Believe you've done enough good by
Being so long this man you're not.
I've yet to see your boiling hot
Blood cool long enough for you to
Smile and enjoy yourself.  You do
So much for others that, like me,
You forgot yourself.  Now happy
To you is just a word, foreign
To your mind and lips.  Sometimes when
I pause to think of all we've done,
I wish that we had not begun
Such silly tasks, for maybe then
We would be more humanly men.
I never dictate to you what
You should do with your life, sir.  But
If I may, I would dare advise
That perhaps it would now be wise
To kill Batman so as to give
The real Bruce Wayne a chance to live.