My OCD loves the number four

I constantly count to four,
I find it everywhere.
On the floor,
at the store,
From washing my hands,
Then doing it again, and again, and again, then once more.
Sure this isn't a normal thing, but I always want four.
There are four letters in the word four,
I try to break my counting of the number yet my thoughts go on, and on, and on, and on for more.
It's like my anxiety won't take anything but the number, so I count one, two, three, four.
I can't go without it or something horrific might just happen.
I don't want that tragic event to have a chance to happen,happen, happen, happen.
So I do it once more.
It always seems to leave me tired by the time the clock says four, four, four, four
I try to hid my OCD behind the closed door, the doctor said it's not healthy never saying no to the number four.
I can't stop now what if I don't do it then I might die right here on the floor?
I could get sick if I don't wash my hands once more.
The doctor said to send those thoughts straight out the door,
they're not welcome anymore.
Forgive me four,
for I don't want to want you anymore.
Yes I'm sure.
You take so much from me,
but always come back asking for more.
I can't do this anymore.
I'm putting you in the back of the drawer.
I started medication so you're gone for sure.
You won't control my life anymore.
Goodbye good friend you're not needed here anymore.

This poem is about: 
Me
Guide that inspired this poem: 

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