A poem about my own struggles with OCD.


1. Trapped

It's like

my own head

is my prison.

And its bars

are my eyes.

All these thoughts

not even worthy

to be thought of

let alone be memories.

I can never seem

to find strength

to push them away.

So they torment me


Book. touch it.


but nobody listens

nobody cares.

How can I feel infinite

how can I be immortal

when these images

bar the way to my freedom?

The doors are locked

and I don't know

if there will ever be a key.

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