Alexithymia was the word that described me, The doctor said,
After 28 years, I was able to put a name to my bedizen ways,
I understood why I was unable to discard the keepsake crayon from when I was four,
It reminded me of filth, the browned zone at the tip would make me sick, Yet I still kept it.
I knew why they said I was indifferent to others pain, why I was kept apart from the hive since I was five,
It was hard for me to deconstruct emotions expressed by the citizens of the house, I was uncomfortable in crowds, How could I know when to smile or cry?
They said I offered inadequate response to seduction, but I couldn’t decipher the feelings beyond the words. What is love and lust? To me, it’s just morphology.
I suffered from a deficiency unknown, people fear and ridicule what they can’t immediately get,
All this time I was in search of a wraith, trying to remodel a convex in my brain,
Turns out, Alexithymia was the word that described me.