There is a monster clinging to my shoulder
(I say clinging. More like gripping).
I can feel his eyes boring into me
Making me hot and uncomfortable
It whispers at me. Nagging
I try to ignore its constant noise
But it refuses to give up
It won't let me rest
I face one of my biggest nemeses
The dreaded taps!
I look at them with such trepidation
As if they could attack me at any minute
I can hear the monster
Clapping his hands with glee
Puffing out his chest
And laughing at me
"Have I checked the taps correctly?"
"I am sure I have turned them off"
"But what if? Just say........"
I start to doubt myself
As the doubt sets in
The monster jumps up and down
And shouts even louder
"But are you sure?"
"Yes," I say with all my might
"I am sure of that!"
And with that the monster shrinks
And slowly rolls towards the end of the garden.
Thank you to Sarah for submitting her poem. Sarah went on
to say, "The monster shrinks and rolls away, because I have
shouted at the OCD and ignored the compulsions. It therefore
loses strength. Something all OCD sufferers know they should
do, but find difficult."
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