Years Later (II)

I’ve found already what I sought,
Yet see me strive for more in view,
Masking pain, by fears uncaught,
With the sarcasm lost to you.

Since you chose the distant road
And found yourself with empty hands,
Pockets full of lies and stones,
At the first toll of the bell to stand,

And I recline, quite content,
Within my cradle of mad glee,
Knowing well thy present’s torment
For I am but honed sociopathy.