Obsesseive Tendencies

The hair of my arms turned,

I know this collision of arms is inevitable,

Yet my mind spins like a ferris wheel gone rogue,

A correction must be made to my limbs,

Wrong, this is wrong; tears pry their way out


Three three three, I type the word with regret

Over over over every stroke sinking my head

The satisfactory breath only worsens my pain

Every typo typo typo I pull my hands, now fists, away

Scared, I’m so scared, Delete Button, hide the shame


Utensils, hidden germs, glasses and forks, my hands shake

Clean them, but don’t touch them, these items may kill you

Imaginary, these germs, but I back away and shiver

Accidents happen, just scour your skin; you’ll make it-this time

Repulsed, that I’m repulsed, throat closing as I cower


Function? She snarls at me and says I function

Scratching scratching scratching my arms red,

Rolls her eyes, swears I still function

Clenching my jaw and shaking for hours,

Shakes her head, says I can function

Twitching away away away, gagging gagging gagging on invisible tormentors

She crosses her arms, she swears I’m I’m I’m faking

I can’t be insane, this woman thinks I function.


Arm hair is my enemy,

Typos my delay,

Utensils my fear,

Function my goal.


I suffer my own hell in my cage,

The world is my open frontier,

But it’s made up of hunters,

And I am a deer deer deer.

This poem is about: 
My family



This poem is about my struggle to complete simple tasks in order to function reliably in everyday life. Often, mentally ill people are ignored or denied help because they are 'high-functioning' and therefore it is believed that they are not 'bad' enough for treatment; unfortunately, without proper treatment mental illnesses get worse and the person suffers more.

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