An Ode to Damian Wayne (Photos)

In the wake of Batman's son's demise, here are some words mixed together into a verbal souffle. Or into a burnt quiche of nouns, adjectives, and other parts of speech.

Damian Wayne was an aristocratic scamp.

A red-yellow whirl of tiny fury.

Both an infuriating horror and a sweet delight.

Trained to kill, but he learned to love.

He chose hugging in lieu of stabbing,

But he still remained a little Richard Grayson.

Born of a dark union,

Between a man who kicks White Martian ass

And a woman with a thing for biblical sea monsters.

His maternal grandfather is a bit of a hygiene product.

Robin is off

Photo credit: 

by DC Comics

We all know what happened to his paternal one.

He might have been the funniest Robin,

At least according to that grinning, green-haired fiend.

He got a striptease at a young age.

He perished before he could shave,

But not before he got to ride in a flying Batmobile.

Boy, was he violent, but he loved his puppy

And also was fond of the cow.

He expected his father to be taller.

And he was killed by himself, sort of.

In some ways he was more of a plot device than a character,

But he was more fleshed out than many characters.

So farewell, Damian ap Bruce.

Goodbye, you terrible tyke.

You were a fun read,

But I don't think I want to meet you in real life.