I can't was for the day I open up.
These years of bad luck
Die faster than how fast I'll run.

Oh and I'll run.
I can't wait to the day.
In the past, all the pain of yesterdays
Have wrapped around my basement brain.
I'll run and show again I might,
Take over this world and
Show a good fight.
I'll forget my troubles,
And move on.

I have a problem, you see.
I own objects like blankets
I cannot sleep without,
Headphones 4 inches thick
To cancel the noises that
Wake up every nerve in my body
That make me shake and bite my nails

I own stubs for fingers
With cuts and chewed skin.
They run across my forehead
To stop the thoughts from occurring.

I count,
Correct the other side
When someone touches my skin.
I make sure every first letter
In the next line of poetry
Is capitalized,
Cause that's a rule.

I agonize over small things
Because as a kid,
No one helped me.
I was too nervous to play in the hose
Or turn on the shower
Because my family would drown.
The ritual began even then.

At 6 I could not play baseball
Because in the outfield
I would tic and make my nose bleed.

I can't even breathe without
Bothering this disease.
One lung does not fill up like the other,
And I get dizzy.

I have a scar on my forehead
From completing this ritual for years.
I fear
And feel.
Why do I fall victim to this disease?
God, I would pray but my hands can hardly
Touch each other without the horrible feeling.

I tap on my forehead
The middle is where it starts
I tap on the floorboards
Therefore my mind leaks
Through the floorboards.
Comatose
Most know the idea
By most I mean me
You see, no one knows
That all I touch breaks.