Alexithymia Poem by Mr. Handsome

WHen it comes to my words I have no finesse,
Often I struggle my thoughts to express,
I construct the attempt, but create only a mess.
Playing with checkers while Life's playing chess.
Though I never give up, I have no success
Stealing my peace, each day I have less.
Hitting the gym, I kill the bench press
In pursuit of a strength I don't yet possess.
I hear voices and the thoughts they profess,
I keep what I like, the rest I suppress,
Anything else would just lead to stress.
This life is mine so don't obsess,
Actions mine to know, yours to guess.
Don't come at me like it were a contest,
If it were, I'd be the victor; that's right me, yes.
I won't sit idle as you transgress,
Did you think your actions I wouldn't adress?
To all of them I can attest,
Leaving a hard truth for you to digest.
I do what I do for me, no one to impress,
When she walks down the isle, it won't be you in the dress.