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.
