Ive... Been good.
Fought it out with my dad.

He knows I despise him.

Spent the night there for my brother,
Couldn't fall asleep till after four.

Got triggered.

Haven't eaten in a bit,
Got my license though.

I've been good.

Finally
I can wake up in the morning
And be okay.

And not just... Okay....
Really.
Okay.

OCD is still an
Unwelcome
Visitor

The self loathing
Is still here,
Sometimes,

But I'm really okay.
I work a 9-6 job,
Sleep regular

Talk to boys,
Argue and talk back,
Get tired

My problems aren't gone.
They're still
Very much present

But,
I'm dealing with them,
Finally

Sic itur ad astra,
Thus to the stars I will journey,
In times of grief and loss,
Through stars and galaxies,
In the fleeting warmth of the sun,
Sic itur ad astra.

Sic Itur Ad Astra.
Assim para as estrelas eu viajarei,
Em tempos de luto e perda,
Através das estrelas e galáxias,
Ao calor fugaz do sol,
Sic itur ad astra.

False words and false imagery,

Acting as if you know emotions more initmately than others.

Then you go on to describe the struggle,

Life, money, your horrible childhood,

As if you're as special as a wheat penny.

I have five.

Or, consider slam poetry.

Angry people yelling into a microphone,

Young adults in black snapping their agreement.

You sound like ***** (click, click, click).

Poets are like the people who use herbal deoderant.

They stink and nobody likes them.

I'll tell you something,

You have no more meaning or depth,

Than the glue stick I stuck to the underside of a lab table in 8th grade.

(mic drop)

Maybe I hurt myself...

To keep myself from hurting you...

With the thoughts begging to become actions...

I wonder what would happen,
If more people knew about how not cute OCD is.

If they knew about intrusive thoughts,
Thinking about killing yourself-

Throwing yourself in front of an amusement park ride,
Closing your eyes and walking into the street.

Stuck picking at your brain,
Ruining your day.

What would happen if...?
And knowing you shouldn't but REALLY want to.

It's not cute,
Love.