A/N: For those of you that don't know, I really am schizophrenic. Like, really badly. I was having a bad episode and I wrote this. It reminded me so much of Schizophrenic!Sam that I had to post this on here as a poem from Sam's POV. I hope you like it. I mean, I don't really care if you do 'cause this wasn't something that I'd purposefully written for Sam- it was my broken mind spouting shit- and I just decided to post it. Review if you'd like. Read on. ((My brother's name is Robert and I always call him 'Bobby', I have a blond friend that loves me- and I love her, my brother's eyes are Dean-Green, and I do see monsters when I'm having a break. Those things are real. Too real. But not at the same time.))

Disclaimer: I don't own Sam Winchester or Supernatural.

Warnings: Schizophrenia.

Summary: Sam's having a bad, bad, bad day.


My head hurts.

My body aches.

The shadows laugh as I try to sleep.

I tell myself that it's not real.

That the things I see aren't reality.

But it's so hard to be sure.

Pain is what's real.

I know that.

But if I make myself feel pain I won't be able to stop.

My brother will find out.

That's not good.

Bad, bad, bad.

There's bad things in the living room.

Bobby tells me there's not.

I want to believe him.

So badly, I want it.

But I see them.

Hear them.

I can almost taste the evil.

Bad, bad, bad, out there.

Safe in my room.

Safe on the couch.

I know someone loves me.

I see her when I squint at the white-ish walls.

She's there, smiling.

Loving me.

Good, good, good.

But I tell her to run,

That it's not safe on the wall.

It's too close to the ceiling!

Ceiling's catch on fire too easily.

RUN!

But she's gone before I can scream the last part.

My brother looks at me with sad, sad eyes.

Leaves and gems.

So pretty.

My head hurts when I see the monsters.

My body aches too.

So tired.

I wanna sleep.

But sleep is when the bad things can get me so I try to stay awake.

It's bad then.

When I'm alone.

Bad, bad, bad.