To My Wayward Sons (Supernatural Poetry)

Emmanuel

I was blessed with

A normal life,

And a loving wife,

With a decent home

And a name from a website.

Yet I also had

Abilities unknown

And special gifts

I was a healer, a seer

Perhaps God chose me.

Ever since I was

Found drenched,

Confused,

And unclothed

By the cold river

With no memory at all.

I am Emmanuel.

This is my life.

It's a good life.

And I was happy

Not knowing who I was

Unable to recall my sins;

Of how I went mad with power,

Betrayed my only friends,

Killed angels and humans alike,

Set the leviathans rampant,

And nearly broke the planet again—

For in those moments

Of blissful oblivion,

Of mindless living,

And little days of peace,

I didn't feel like a bad person.

That is, until they reminded me.

Told me who I was...

What I was.

I regained my abilities

And the bad memories

Flashed in front of my eyes

My damned memory returning

As I did what I was originally

Programmed to do:

To kill demons,

To be a lethal weapon,

To be ruthless, and be

A fallen soldier of God.

And it all

                    came

                                      crashing

                                                             down...

On me.

Now I see...

I am not Emmanuel.

I am not chosen.

I am not special.

I am not normal.

I am Castiel.

I am a  t r a i t o r.

I am a  w i c k e d  angel.

And I  d e s e r v e  t o  d i e.