The Voice – a poem about #OCD before I knew it was #OCD

My OCD reared it’s ugly head when I was a teenager, but I never knew what it was until I was twenty-six. I stumbled upon this poem I wrote…I’m not sure how old I was, 16 or 17 maybe? It is a very poorly written poem with forced rhyming but it captured how tortured I was. Knowing what I know now and reading this it is so clear to me what was going on, that it was OCD. But back then all I knew of OCD was hand washing, cleanliness, and order. I had no idea that OCD could be thoughts of family dying because I did something wrong, or fear of touch, or repetitive routines that took hours, or horrible thoughts of violence.

I am sharing this poem not because I think it’s great, trust me I don’t. But because if I knew what OCD really was back then I could have gotten help earlier. I share about OCD and what it’s really like so I might reach someone who is suffering and help them see why. And by knowing why they can finally seek the proper help they need.

The voice

I am the voice inside your head.
Do this.
No. Do this,
or you might end up dead.

If you don’t do this,
your sister might die.
But if you do that,
someone might cry.

Make sure you check the stove,
before you leave the house
Because if gas leaks, it’s your fault
you stupid louse!

Don’t let people touch you.
Don’t let them get close.
Even though you want it,
you shall think it is gross.

You will never have peace
cuz I’ll always be there,
telling you to do things
cuz I really don’t care.

when you’re in a small room
and nothing is wrong
you will want to get out
you can’t be there too long.

To many people,
all in one place.
You start to breathe fast.
You become a nut case.

Maybe you’re crazy.
That’s what I think.
Now you think it too.
You are crazy and you stink.

I am the voice inside your head.
I will not rest until you are dead!

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