Her Poetry: OCD

OCD

OCD

Sometimes I look in the mirror

And don’t like what I see

My external self is so changeable

Yet I’ve looked the same since I called myself me

 

The difficulty I have

Isn’t with the skin, hair and teeth

It’s with my unchanging attitude;

My need to perfect and be perfect.

 

I’m doing it now as I write this

Criticising the way that I think

If it’s in me to scrutinize, to poke and to sneer

Then I guess I’m just trying to make myself clear

 

By failing to accept my flaws

I’m simply staying true to myself

Embracing the part that rejects the imperfections

And scathing all that’s imperfect.

 

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