This is not great
There is no order
In all this freedom
We are all soldiers
Built for fated wars
Not foolish humans
Blinded by decision
We shall follow by
Our codes strictly
So we won't end up
Fallen, like Castiel
No more corruption
No more madness
No more promises
No more new gods
No more death tolls
No more dark angels
No more free will now
I'm making the choices
And they're going to pay.
YOU ARE READING
To My Wayward Sons (Supernatural Poetry)
PoetrySupernatural 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! ××× ...
