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.