First off, it won’t go away
Simple as that
It burrows inside your head
Like a Chinese finger trap
(I’ve never seen one but I know
what they are like)
Or perhaps a camel’s thorn
Another thing I’ve heard of
Occasionally you find relief
Maybe two minutes or even less
Maybe up to five hours
But it always comes back
At least for that day
You want to scream
To plead, to cry, to beg it to stop
But of course it won’t
It’s OCD, are you kidding?
Of course it won’t
No matter how hard you try
And believe me, you do try
You try not to compulse because
You know that’ll make it worse
You imagine a drill going
Through your brain, destroying your thoughts
It’s illogical, but that’s OCD
Normally, when things are illogical
You don’t trust them
You brush them aside
Knowing they aren’t true
That they can’t be
But with OCD you believe it’s true
And you don’t want it to be
And it might not be
But it also might be true
And as the day goes on
You’re more and more afraid
That it is
You live in fear of yourself
For you are hating yourself
Your possible truths
You tell yourself
That you aren’t your thoughts
Thoughts aren’t actions
But you can never be sure
Of what you think
It’s the doubting disease
Leaving scratches up your forearm
And that’s why
It’s ocd
I struggle with obsessive compulsive disorder. This is a poem I wrote a couple months ago, but I thought I‘d share it anyway. I’m in a better place now.