Sociopath

I am not like most others,
Or at least that's what everyone else tells me.
They'd call me crazy,
So only four people know.
The boy I trust with my life,
The girl that didn't judge,
The boy I love,
The girl that is abused.
I don't feel.
People try to describe
Happiness,
Remorse,
Excitement,
Anger.
But I don't understand,
And they don't understand that.
Sociopath.
I've been called that twice now,
Once by the girl that said I didn't care about anyone,
And once by the boy that asked me about empathy.
Empathy,
Another thing I don't understand.
I've been told it's biology,
So I guess I'm just missing out?
Missing out.
I've lost two things this week,
Both cherished friends.
I miss them dearly,
But I don't feel it.
To feel.
The one thing no one can describe to me.

This poem is about: 
Me

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