Sorrow is Just All the Rage
Disclaimer: I own nothing in any way, shape, or form.
Pairing: Sam/Dean
W/C & Warnings: 179; dark, for what I normally do. Sam is of his S5 mentality, the one where he believes he deserves all the shit that's happened/is happening to him.
Poem: When Sam's wall breaks down, there are things other than Satan festering in the cracks of his mind.
Sometimes I think,
Yes, we are damned.
But there are darker things lurking
in the darker night--
and were I a miner, you'd be my canary.
Your death would serve as my warning
as everything I fear
crawled up towards me, sinuous cats,
gaseous darkness, or oil slicks
on the pristine ocean of life.
I shall then pull up the chalk board in my mind,
(Yes, we are damned.
Yes, we are damned.
Yes, we are damned.
Written in neat rows as punishment
[For I am not a miner, but a school boy,
small and unsteady in my hand-me-down shoes.]),
to erase it all and rewrite the truth.
I finger paint-- thick, illegible letters,
in the tackiness of my own blood.
Yes, we are perfect.
Yes, we are one.
Yes, we are beautiful.