There is no point
       these days
No joy from anything
   these days
No emotion
             these days
No anything
       these days.

That afternoon, I remember it well:
Mother screams at me
for not displaying proper sympathy;
she cries
at my lack of human emotion.

I want to screech,
         and laugh,
  and yell,
and thrash my body about,
   and inform her
that asking me to feel anything
    toward anyone
is like asking a paralyzed body
to dance.

Instead, I stand there
and watch her sob;
gaze unaverted,
silently vowing to remain.

I thought that was a nice thing to do.