To My Wayward Sons (Supernatural Poetry)

The Beekeeper

I found sense

As a sound

Pierced me within

And I awoke

Festering in

Guilt and madness.

And my mind is

A filthy cell;

Scrambled and dizzy

Unfocused, blurred,

An insane consequence.

And my caretaker is

A pretty demon,

A midnight heart,

A thorny rose...

She is beautiful.

But she hates poetry.

I find happiness

In honeybees and flowers

In little games

And funny pranks

And in the little things.

All the scars Sam

Earned from hell

Are mine to keep,

Wounds to be

Opened once again.

I remember

Who I am,

What I am,

And what I did.

The weight of

All my mistakes,

All those lives

And souls lost

I couldn't take it either.

But I was lost...

Until I took on the pain.

All of the hurt

It keeps me alive,

Reminds me of

Who I am,

All that guilt

Absolves me,

And the pain

Heals me.

This is my wrongdoing,

This is my penitence,

My punishment

For all my heinous crimes.

For I am fallen,

I am corrupted,

I am sinful.

I am Castiel,

Always happy

To bleed for

The Winchesters.

I am Castiel.

I am a broken angel.

I don't fight anymore.

And I watch the bees.