To My Wayward Sons (Supernatural Poetry)

To My Wayward Sons

(Hey, happy 50th Supernatural poem that showcases my severe obsession over the show and how too far gone I am!!! *pops champagne alone in pathetic celebration* Anyways, here's a 500-word poem, because reasons. *collapses from exhaustion*)

~*~

To my wayward sons,

.

You've constantly tripped, weakened, and almost stumbled as you carried the heavy weight

Of this entire world's shaky destiny and everyone's fate resting upon your tiring shoulders

Staggering against the sheer pain inflicted within and flinching at the searing torturous hate

But you clench your knuckles, grit your teeth hard, you surge with strength and hold on even tighter

.

You know that these actions that you now laboriously carry were to your very own undoing

Cause for the apocalypse, you kept picking at the thread until it came into a quick unravelling

Your fault, your consequences, your cause, your responsibility, that's all that really matters

You carry it very carefully now, lest it falls from your grasp and in a million pieces shatters

.

The demons tickle you, try to deceive and manipulate, and endlessly taunt and mock your whims

God is missing, all the angels do virtually nothing but stare blankly from Heaven and count your sins

You would never have made it, but you have some family, a strength, hope, fellow conspirators

Stalwart hands to help unburden the load, a rebellious angel and your trusted ever-faithful brother

.

You always carry your tainted souls high and wayward and you stand up and battle on for what's right

You raise that flag and charge into battle, come hell or high water, this ain't no choice of fight or flight

You bend your halos and break your wings, you snap your swords and you shoot your lethal bullets

You bleed and you bruise, you hurt and you lose, fall out of grace, win a pyrrhic victory against death

.

Yet in the end it matters no longer, it's just petty contrivances you have nothing anymore to gain

Sometimes you wish that this wasn't the life you have chased, days of sheer melancholy and pain

Now it's too late to grieve and too soon to regret, sons, for fate always comes in twists and turns

And it's worth the smiles on their faces, your brother's laugh, seeing a new daybreak on the morn

.

You know it will never be always a sure hit, sometimes you'll tend to miss your intended mark

Sometimes there are flames that destroy a person completely, and you held the igniting spark

Faith withheld, prayers failed to be uttered, Armageddon, it's all part of this hunter's life game

But one thing is always for certain: everyone you crossed paths with will remember your names

.

So I lay the purest white candle, flickering softly, for all the sacrifices that you've been forced to made

I place a red flower, a thorny rose tainted with blood, for all the pricked hearts you had to lay to waste

I blaze a yellow fire, conflagrating, flaring, a funeral pyre for all the people that you loved and lost

You know that you saved the world sons, but you also know that this action was never without its cost.