I think there’s something wrong with me.
I throw my hand into fire yet I do not feel,
Why won’t my skin burn and peel?
There’s no fire left in my life.

The cold wraps around me as an old friend,
One that I’ve never had,
I realise it should feel bad,
But I feel nothing.

I hear a joke and attempt laughter,
But I don’t find anything funny,
I used to find life as sweet as honey,
Now it’s bitterer then vinegar.

There’s nothing left and I wonder what’s wrong,
My life has no passion like it did before,
I am alone and I care not what’s in store,
It hardly even matters,
It doesn’t matter a bit,
It doesn’t matter at all.

Lenore Lee

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-sociopath-3/