When the sun has burnt off
And the night skies go dim
And the horrid monsters lurk
Playing nasty tricks within
When fettered hope is all but lost
As you huddle and cry in fear
Too many lives have been cost
And the demons are chillingly near
There will always be some light
In the form of two brothers
They will always stand up and fight
For that's in their blood, hunters
Even when their distal spirits
Have been reaped and sown
Walking on hell's unbearable heat
And tortured and pulled down
The chains they'll always break free of
And run towards the bounding horizon
Two brothers, made of hope, family love
Their wayward hearts will always carry on.
YOU ARE READING
To My Wayward Sons (Supernatural Poetry)
PoetrySupernatural poems that I write when all the: -massive emotional damage -overwhelming crack -severe obsession -rare inspiration -demon possessing me is too much to handle. 50% feels, 50% crack, 100% trash. Abandon all hope, ye who enter here! ××× ...
