Even the bravest of lion hearts can also be terrified
Amidst their badass demeanour, tough-as-nails façade
They can smile throughout the torture, grin as they died
But scared for his family, if he can save them from bad
.
Even the most powerful of spirits can also be incensed
Snuffed away like a match, into humanity's weakness
When fighting takes a toll, and all ardour exhausted
The angel, the saviour, can become utterly powerless
.
Even the purest of white hearts can also taint to dark
Black seeps in the red, his shattered fragile torn heart
When demons howl too loud, gone is that bright spark
All innocence disappearing and kindly hope falling apart
.
Even the most valiant of hunters can also stumble, grope, and weep
Find themselves lost in corners, outnumbered, gone off way too deep
But their mistakes matter not, for wayward sons will keep on standing
Just as long as their souls tear through the pain and allow them to keep fighting.
YOU ARE READING
To My Wayward Sons (Supernatural Poetry)
Thơ caSupernatural 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! ××× ...
