To My Wayward Sons (Supernatural Poetry)

A Length of Rope

Heaven was in complete anarchy, with two battling archangels gone

Fate had been rendered obsolete from the damage that they'd done

The angels were confused, with no apocalypse, no destiny to follow

"Where are our orders? Where are the rules? Now what'll we do so?"

.

"What is freedom? What do we do with it? Why did God bestow such a gift?

For all our eternal lives, we've known to be only soldiers and mercenaries."

An angel initially thought that freedom, well freedom was a length of rope

God wants you to use it to pull yourself out the hole into the path you chose

.

A sole archangel taking the helm of where the others have left away

In plans to jumpstart the apocalypse once again to finish their play

But one rebel thought otherwise, paving the way for good intentions

Wanting only the best for his kin, for free will against his descension

.

A great battle thus was waged, a civil war arising, trouble in paradise

A huge battalion with a stronger commander against his scant allies

A bloody clash between control and choice, it'd seemed unwinnable

For there were only a few of them against a legion of his army stable

.

In order to win, the rebellious angel had to choose a unorthodox plan

But he had to betray, lying to his friends and army, able to trust no one

Sided with the dark, for a power so stark, crack open the underground

Yet when the truth unravelled fast, he was unsure if it was still sound

.

He told his story, asked for just one sign, he begged, implored, and moped

"Am I doing the right thing? Did I make the right choice?" With losing hope

He called for his Father relentlessly, but sadly, no answer had came to be lit

"I guess freedom is a length of rope; God wants you to hang yourself with it."