I enter your class, say “morning”, you stare.

You never respond. It seems like you don’t even care.

I try to understand all the stuff you teach.

Sometimes it is hard, since I have OCD.

I repeat during your test, so I need more time.

You take away the test, and well, I guess it is fine.

It is better than you knowing about what I have.

 So, I made a choice to take a stand

And be treated normal, I demand.

Sometimes you seem mad when I get things wrong.

And it hurts me because I am trying to be strong.

OCD, OCD, OCD, 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3 repeat

Don’t you see?

OCD, OCD, OCD, 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3 repeat

This is what is wrong with me.

OCD, OCD, OCD, 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3 repeat


Guide that inspired this poem: 



It helps portray how sometimes teachers expect their students to be "perfect" and always do their work and get excellent grades without taking into consideration the problems they may be  facing, whether it is mental health or family problems. Sometimes teachers tend to forget about these problems and pressure their students to be "perfect", which is how I have felt with one certain teacher during the past years.

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