A complex of my own

[Jeanio (imported)]

I do possess a complex and a fixation of my own. I think most people on this site possess complexes. As for me I've no wish to get rid of my own. And there's a poem that seems to be written specially for those guys who are proud of their own complexes and fixations.

Lament of a Normal Child by Phyllis McGinley

The school where I go is a modern school

With numerous modern graces.

And there they cling to the modern rule

Of "Cherish the Problem Cases!"

From nine to three

I develop Me.

I dance when I'm feeling dancy,

Or everywhere lay on

With creaking crayon

The colors that suit my fancy.

But when the commoner tasks are done,

Deserted, ignored, I stand.

For the rest have complexes, everyone;

Or a hyperactive gland.

Oh, how can I ever be reconciled

To my hatefully normal station?

Why counldn't I be a Problem Child

Endowed with a small fixation?

Why wasn't I trained for a Problem Child

With an Interesting Fixation?

I dread the sound of the morning bell.

The iron has entered my soul.

I'm a square little peg who fits too well

In a square little normal hole.

For seven years

In Mortimer Sears

Has the Oedipus angle fourished;

And Jessamine Gray,

She cheats at play

Because she is undernourished.

The teachers beam on Frederick Knipe

With scientific grattitude,

For Fred, they claim, is a perfect type

Of the Antisocial Attitude.

And Cuthbert Jones has this temper riled

In a way professors mention.

But I am a Perfectly Normal Child,

So I don't get any attention.

I'm nothing at all but a Normal Child,

So I don't get the least attention.

The others jeer as they pass my way.

They titter without forbearance.

"He's Perfectly Normal," they shrilly say,

"With Perfectly Normal parents."

I learn to read

With a normal speed.

I answer when I'm commanded.

Infected antrums

Don't give me tantrums.

I don't even write left-handed.

I build with blocks when they give me blocks,

When it's busy hour, I labor.

And I seldom delight in landing socks

On the ear of my little neighbor.

I sit on the steps alone.

Why couldn't I be a Problem Child

With a Case to call my own?

Why wasn't I born a Problem Child

With a Complex of my own?

I'm just proud i'm not "a square little peg who fits too well in a square little normal hole".

[twaddler (imported)]

Lovely.

[homptydumpty (imported)]

a day to express ones self in words, very hard.

[genderless (imported)]

Very good, but a bit long.