The Arrow’s Head

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A man in Kelly green appears
Through cover of the midnight dread.
All men tremble, all men fear
The apex of the arrow’s head.

Haunted by his father’s sins
He marks the names off on his list.
In Starling City, the Hood begins
His dark crusade for justice.

Mercy rarely he bestows
To wicked men with evil thoughts.
And as he pulls back on his bow,
The arrow is loosed from the nock.

One stabs a henchman on his chest.
A second gets one in the back.
A well-aimed flash bang blinds the rest
And masks his blunt attack.

Like a surgeon — cold, precise —
The glass fortress is assailed.
And one by one, they pay the price
For the city they had failed.

On Purgatory he once learned
The killing ways; the ancient arts.
Through blood, through sweat, through pain he earned
His hardened eyes, his stone cold heart.

For Ollie Queen’s forever damned
To wield the bow, to fight the fight
To see that Uncorrupted Land
Where crime is banished from the night.

Yet buried in the hood is born
Humanity to stay rage.
Though justice pledged and duty sworn,
It’s understood that he can change.

Yet still the hooded man appears
Through cover of the midnight dread.
Beware, you wanton profiteers,
The death’s mark of the arrow’s head.

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