OCD

• Jacinta Develyn, Grade 6
• Poetry
• 2021

The desk, it’s not inline with the other desk, I know it shouldn’t matter,
But it does, all day I’ve suppressed my wrath, but all I can think about,
Is the desk, the desk that’s not inline, with the other desk, I feel panic,
Crawling into my mind against my will, my heart hammering, my head,
Feels like a T Rex is gnawing on it, I feel anger, hate, fury, it’s all too much,
The desk is cackling at me, daring me to cower, but I refuse to lose this time,
The fog starts to roll in everything goes blurry, the anger is choking me now,
I try to remember to breathe, reminiscing the exercises I did with Dr Allen,
But it’s too powerful, I let it gain strength and now it’s taken over,
I tell myself I can’t give up, I can’t, INHALE, EXHALE, REPEAT, CALM,
Slowly the fog rolls away, everything becomes clear, pride floods me,
I tell the teacher I’m fine, my classmates stare at me as though I’m an alien,
But I don’t care, they don’t get what it’s like to have OCD,
I stare right at the desk, triumphant, you can’t beat me, I tell it,
The desk stares right back at me,
As though it knows that this journey isn’t over yet