Faceless, Tasteless

I found out I've got no soul,
but it doesn't really bother me

You always sneer, 'You're broken here,'
Your finger digging in my chest.

I know I'm not the man who sacrificed himself, saved the world.
Set you free.
The little brother you long me to be.

I am hollow, the coldest of shadows.
A man so faceless, so tasteless, you wouldn't even recognize me anymore.
A mocking wisp of the soul you so cherish.

The looks you cast my way, full of loathing, distaste.
Murder.
Should break my heart.
Or so memory tells me.
It's not like you can hurt me anymore.

Too bad there's only a pitted rock sharing space in my cage of bone.

My plastic smile turns your stomach, has you reaching for cool steel,
Finger twitching on the trigger.
I see it in your eyes.

Sharper than a dagger, cooler than an Arctic breeze.
This hate you carry for me.
How you long to pump lead into this insult wearing your brother's face.

Sometimes I wish you would too.
Release me from this shackling emptiness, cut my strings.
End me like you should of done.
Father's orders after all.

I feel nothing.
I am nothing.
And I don't care.

But you do.

I see the anguish as you turn away, Glock disappearing like it never happened,
Shinning like a beacon in the blackest of pits.
Bleaker that The Cage itself.
And I am drawn to it.

This emotion that eludes me.
I want to study it, hold it in my battle scarred hands, warp it, prod it, and eviscerate.

I want to understand the love you feel for my missing piece.
Understand why you hold back even as you're striking my flesh,
Breaking my bones.
Lashing out with rage so fierce and scorching hot, I can feel the sear as your eyes blaze into mine.

I'm almost envious.

Almost.

You say we're brothers
And that you're going to be my moral compass until you can retrieve my soul.
But I've forgotten what that means.

To be a brother...
All I can be is this.
I am not the brother you raised.
I'm not even the brother who fell down a hole.
All I am is a heartless shell, vacant.
Unoccupied.
The lights are on but no ones home.

The women, the betrayals, the cold killings, the questionable hunts,
Are all I have to fill the hole.

It's made me, shaped me, colored the world I see with a merciless blackness.
A color I can understand.

Directionless, I am faceless
As tasteless as I the food I eat.
Held together by loose ends and frayed stitches.
Guided by your heart and baffling emotion.

Jumbled and broken, incomplete and tainted,
Until you shove my soul in, seal it tight so it can never leave.
Glue the edges, bind the stitches.

Return the beloved face to this body.
Give it heart.
Make it whole.
Tack on 'brother' to it's soul.

A/N: Okay, so...First ever Supernatural fic. And I wouldn't even call it a fic. More of a string of Sam thoughts put in poetic form. Funny thing is, I don't really write poems either. This just kinda...happened. Heh. Anyway. Tag to Family Matters.

Vaguely inspired by a Papa Roach lyric, Hollywood W***e. Just one line. You'll know it if you heard it.

Um, thoughts? Opinions? Love it? Hate it? Sitting there scratching your head thinking, what the hell? Yeah, me too.

Disclaimer: I don't own, just another author playing in the sandbox.