he sits on the floor,
alone with his thoughts,
the voices drowning out
the silence.
he clicks his tongue
twice
and then blinks
twice
and then scratches his scab
twice
and stops.
then he shakes his head
twice
and pulls his nails down his cheeks
twice
and grinds his molars
twice
and stops.
and he wishes he could stop
but it never stops.
he has to and
whether he likes it
or not and once
he had a small
scar and it wouldn't
go away and he
sat in the tub
and ripped at the
scar until the water
was red and his
skin burned.
and he hated it
but he had to
and he sits on
the floor and click
his tongue twice and
thinks about those three
words and flinches at
the fact it is
not an even number
of words and he
wants to tear the
words out of his
mind and they won't
go away because he
knows that they are
the cage that trapped
him.
obsessive
and compulsive
he thought but the
last word would not
go away and he
hated it so much.
the word disorder was
the one word that
haunted him because without
it the words would
be even.
obsessive
compulsive
disorder
he shook his head
and sobbed twice because
he did not have
the strength to stop.
YOU ARE READING
Poems - because words can be beautiful
Poetrypoems - because words can be beautiful === The more serious and less traditional of a duo of ongoing poetry collections. It's other half is shallow and your simple rhyming book. This one is just a pile of thoughts and emotions on a page, not rhyming...
