To My Wayward Sons (Supernatural Poetry)

Flee or Die

I had made my proposal

My clever singular plan

What could go wrong

With an angel in hand?

So I contacted Castiel

A desperate fop, quite

And he easily accepted

To join in my own fight

A business transaction

Between two entities

Needing soul's powers

Looking for purgatory

.

Thus I worked my ass raw

To locate and open purgatory

Torturing all monsters

For information relentlessly

I nearly killed myself trying

Perused all my ploys

But what did that get me?

Now I'm given a choice

Either flee or you die, bastard said

Renegotiated our original terms

He got all that he had needed

And I get my life and zilch souls

Unfairly weighted, how dare he

I handed him this very deal

I did my part quite smoothly

Now he gets a buffet of souls to steal

And now to break what I couldn't

A pact, a contract we have made

I was made a throwaway man

Boy, can't trust anyone these days

.

So I sought another angel

They're in no short supply

Took the ritual for our own

Threatened Cas to flee...or die

But it had turned out to be

A mere dog's blood trickery

While we waited foolishly

Castiel did his ritual easily

Now he's a nuclear reactor

Powered by souls' reprieve

I don't mean to keep score

But now it's really flee or die

Ah, hell, it seems to me that

Our dear angel's gone rouge

I reckon it's my cue to scurry

Exit stage, Crowley.