The Psychopath Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

A smile so bright, a word so kind,
But something hollow, left behind.
No warmth within, no gentle grace,
Just emptiness behind that face.

A game of puppets, pulled by string,
The feelings of others, don't mean a thing.
They twist and turn, a clever art,
To break a spirit, or steal a heart.

No guilt, no shame, no deep regret,
A life lived out, they won't forget.
Just colder actions, sharp and keen,
The cruellest player on life's scene.