deepundergroundpoetry.com
To a Sociopath
"All Sociopaths and Psychopaths are narcissists
although the converse is not true of narcissists."
What a childhood
you must have experienced;
or, could it be inherent --
this insatiable need for dramatics
Perhaps you were made fun of
or an outcast growing up --
betrayal and physical abuse
replaced trust with a need for control
Maybe a mutant gene
squaring a cerebral cortex
programs your mindset
to believe
"It's all about me, no one else!"
It's not enough though, is it?
This addiction to attention --
inserting into situations
to validate worth;
playing victim to an "ogre"
your only playing card:
You attempt to destroy reputations
annihilate perceived threats;
those with inside information
about your adulterous secrets
A narcissistic tea party of one
laced with vitriol and venom
for anyone enlisting
in your pathetic pity party
"Poor poor Penelope"
Serving homemade gossip
manipulating minds;
divide to conquer one by one
is your ultimate devise --
the price your victims pay
for getting the hell away
Well I'm not afraid
despite what I lose
On the contrary
I'd be quite amused
if it wasn't so sad
Frenemies swallowing
your self-absorbancy
are weeded out, one by one --
( with zero effort from me )
by you doing all the work
Why am I not panicked;
why so calm and collected;
why am I not defending
against this competitive
and vindictive behavior --
Because I know your fate
will reap this crop you sow
regardless of my destiny;
I refuse to harvest with you
O! but none of it will be your fault
you'll claim, while playing victim
Because it's never enough
for a sociopath to just live life
if feeling "wronged" by anyone
This is what age has taught me;
Time is on my side
"Three things cannot be long hidden:
the sun, the moon, and the truth."
And honey, that means you
It's something you've yet to learn
-- if a sociopath even can
Or, maybe you're truly gone
in this life, who knows
or gives a damn
Until then
it's business as usual:
peace, Love, and happiness
Truth be known . . .
that's what's really killing you
"You're so vain
I bet you think this [poem] is about you
Don't you, don't you. . ."
~
although the converse is not true of narcissists."
What a childhood
you must have experienced;
or, could it be inherent --
this insatiable need for dramatics
Perhaps you were made fun of
or an outcast growing up --
betrayal and physical abuse
replaced trust with a need for control
Maybe a mutant gene
squaring a cerebral cortex
programs your mindset
to believe
"It's all about me, no one else!"
It's not enough though, is it?
This addiction to attention --
inserting into situations
to validate worth;
playing victim to an "ogre"
your only playing card:
You attempt to destroy reputations
annihilate perceived threats;
those with inside information
about your adulterous secrets
A narcissistic tea party of one
laced with vitriol and venom
for anyone enlisting
in your pathetic pity party
"Poor poor Penelope"
Serving homemade gossip
manipulating minds;
divide to conquer one by one
is your ultimate devise --
the price your victims pay
for getting the hell away
Well I'm not afraid
despite what I lose
On the contrary
I'd be quite amused
if it wasn't so sad
Frenemies swallowing
your self-absorbancy
are weeded out, one by one --
( with zero effort from me )
by you doing all the work
Why am I not panicked;
why so calm and collected;
why am I not defending
against this competitive
and vindictive behavior --
Because I know your fate
will reap this crop you sow
regardless of my destiny;
I refuse to harvest with you
O! but none of it will be your fault
you'll claim, while playing victim
Because it's never enough
for a sociopath to just live life
if feeling "wronged" by anyone
This is what age has taught me;
Time is on my side
"Three things cannot be long hidden:
the sun, the moon, and the truth."
And honey, that means you
It's something you've yet to learn
-- if a sociopath even can
Or, maybe you're truly gone
in this life, who knows
or gives a damn
Until then
it's business as usual:
peace, Love, and happiness
Truth be known . . .
that's what's really killing you
"You're so vain
I bet you think this [poem] is about you
Don't you, don't you. . ."
~
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