Anger curls around him Grips him tight in giant claws Takes hold before he can even process It’s still dark His knees still aching in the dirt His best friend is still dead
Claws digging in, he pitches forward Hands resting on dead man’s shoulders He could have stopped this He should have stopped this He would have stopped this And taken his place in a heartbeat
Too angry to cry Too angry to say anything He’s alone and the claws dig in deeper It’s all directed towards himself Not to the man on the ground Because Castiel is a man now, His burnt-out wings are testimony for that And it hurts so **** much.
As if all the anger rises to the surface All in one go Like a volcano on the verge of eruption Dean shouts to the sky Ignoring the slight twinkling stars And the bright moon It’s supposed to be beautiful But it’s ugly Ugly with his own rage
Give him back!
Spoilers for 12x23.
written for the SPN Poetry Challenge | Prompt: anger