The Sociopath's Lament Poem by Bryan Taplits

A bow, I think, to the wily ones, the ones who do not care
Like me they are but sociopaths,
Swine, who cannot care.
They never have to justify;
they never have to fear.
Nor dare too much. Nor care too much.
Nor ever shed a tear!

At times, I'm glad I'm like them-
A man without a heart
Readily acknowledging all my debts to man-
Slyly, only paying a part!
It's true I can not love-
nor will a gal ever make me swoon-
But neither will my memories
Be a conscience-broom,
pushing towards a room of gloom.

As I bear this headstone of not being able to feel
it causes me neither to repent nor repine,
However, this I do miss-
'To feel. Oh, just to feel, ' I hear myself quail.
'Tsk!
…'Otherwise, I'm feeling just fine.'