Obsessive Compulsive Disorder

Wallet. Keys. Food for work. Check.

Anxiety rises with every minute that gets closer to my shift.

Leaving my house is hard

because I'm afraid I'll lose something and be stuck out there.

Wallet. Keys. Still there.

Take a drink, put my cigarettes in my bag.

I have to fix my socks

when the seams rubs my toes unevenly.

Are my keys in my bag?

Did I grab my wallet?

I'll check fifty times before I get to work.

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741