Author's Note: I don't often write poetry, only now and then when I feel inspired. So at 2:30 in the morning I came up with this little gem. The POV switches over midway through, sorta, and the style is all over and the grammar is a bit different but it's poetry right? lol. Anywho, please read this and tell me what you think. I'm very iffy about it. I love it but i wanna know what you guys think and if you understand it. Any questions just ask. Be nice though :D And constructive criticism always accepted.
Winchester's Rest
Dawn is creeping; condensation is leaking,
along the open window pane
Worms are nibbling; a shadow remains hovering,
above a child's bed
Tick. Tock
Tick. Tock.
Lawrence soon will shake.
The curtains sway as the pendulum sways.
Silence at first.
Sulfur rising.
Thick and brewing.
Crawling; swarming;
Poignantly staining.
everything in its path
The child cries
Fearful and guttural is the sound
White caress of a silk gown
Tousled locks of gold
Petite smile; granted one final time
Shock and awe.
So follows the scream.
Darkness lingers
Run.
Barefooted lover; hero for another day
Moth torn house coat
Musty and damp
Wear it like armor
Never look back
Against a pastel blue
Watch her body climb
Cry out
Flames ignite
Night is fading; flesh is burning,
along the nursery walls
A Winchester is crying; mother is dying
towards the end of this narrow hall
Sons of John;
Escape.
Scatter onto the grass
Gaze into the heat
Brother Dean;
Protector of the meek
Mutter your reassurances
Bite your lip;
You will not cry
Baby Sam;
Let out your fears.
Sing your song of woes and heartache
Unguarded
The night takes with it your innocence
In return is destiny
Husband of Mary;
Take up arms
Hold your children and run fast
Away from the falling embers
Shield them from the flashing neon blue and red
Hide away inside yourself
Swallow the emotion, the hurt, the pain
Spit out the vengeance and call out its name
Travel the highway
No stopping tonight.
Go.
Push harder.
No pain. No gain.
Watch your boys grow.
Together.
Apart.
Fade into the scenery.
Find what you've been searching for.
Twenty-two years of seeking.
But at what cost?
Possessed by the evil
Dark nostalgia from that cold November night
The blood runs thick
Sam calls out your name
Dean's body is limp
Samuel Colt made a gun
It clatters to the floor.
One bullet imbedded in your leg
Only one bullet more
The Impala is broken; a doctor has spoken
above a hospital bed.
A secret still lingering and a quest that needs fulfilling
before any Winchester can rest