lol. I remember this one sociopathic poem posted on the blog:
A young poet reader seeks to capture the sociopathic mind (accurately?):
A Sociopathic Mind
Should I laugh or should I cry? To this tragedy before my eyes Emotions and feelings tumble about, While I wonder why people need to shout.
Surrounded by exclamations of joy and fear, I quietly sit with my crocodile tears. Everything on this earth is part of my twisted game, And I am the hidden beast you cannot tame.
As the endless cycle of doldrums takes its toll, I secretly plot on the avarice of souls. Deceit and lies are the tools of my trade, Tools I use at my continuous bade.
I am the one with a thousand faces, To suit a multiple and plethora of tastes. And while I am different from all the rest, There is no need for you to be in duress.
I live my life as a continuous gamble, With facts and odds and where loot lies ample. And while I do not plot for your ultimate demise, To cross me would be wholly unwise.
My kind hides behind charm and misconceptions, So I hope you will forgive us for our little deception. With our piercing gaze, we watch the sheep You will never guess what our souls shall reap.
I can be found wherever my whims takes thee, Even if my impulses might bring either harm or glee. We are free from the shackles society has set, And will fulfill our goals with either charisma or threat.
We are actually a peaceful lot despite what TV has said, Even if we do not care, we do not want you dead. We just want games to quench our thirst, To relieve the boredom that makes our mind burst.
We see the world in a different light, Where emotions are irreverent and pragmaticity is might. We follow the rules and love one another, Although our minds are programmed differently than others.
As this poem comes to a finality and an end
I hope that you and I can still be friends
Even though you know I am hidden in the flock
Fitting in a circle hole as a square block
Another poem by this tumblr user that's apparently diagnosed with ASPD:
I see you at the cafe, on the street, at work, at the fetish club, at a small, private party.
For a moment, you are an unknown quantity.
You are flawless, because you are a total mystery to me.
But then you speak.
Or move.
Or much worse, we make eye contact.
And now you are one of them.
Predictable. Simplistic. Dumb. Easy. Meat.
You are a doe in headlights.
And this simplicity, how clearly everything about you is spelled out
and how easy you have become
Bores me.
Your glow fades with every passing second,
and I feel little more than disgust as you simply turn into well read flesh.
Disgust not at you, but at this feeling.
This boredom.
Because you don’t matter anymore.
You’re just a piece of furniture.
An obstruction.
To me
You no longer exist.
-Leigh