I’m old enough to know that any monsters under my bed,
pale in comparison to the one that’s in my head
a creature that taunts me nightly, with what ifs, mights and coulds,
tells me: it’ll be okay though, if you just touch wood
so I tap the bed frame once, and then I tap again
only now touching wood doesn’t work, unless it’s in multiples of ten
and I suppose I can’t be certain, that wood will always be found
so I keep a piece in my pocket, carry it around
But the voice changes its tactic, says now that the real monster is me
and I’m late for work because I’m taking quizzes: “Do you have psychopathic tendencies?”
Won’t go into my kitchen, can’t be left around any knives
Scratch my skin hoping it’ll distract me, and break all out into hives
I tell all my friends who ask, I loved making a murderer too!
Only I didn’t really watch it, too afraid what I might do
That somehow I’d see myself staring back from within the TV screen
so I lock myself into my room, simply refuse to leave
That soothes the monster almost, but just when I think its gone
It finds a new obsession, what if my reality is wrong?
And I’m actually not here, not really, not at all
That maybe I’m dreaming, or I’m crazy, or I had a nasty fall
Maybe I’m lying in a hospital bed, wires threading through me, I’m in coma somewhere
My family cry, she was so young! Their heads all bowed in prayer
Or maybe, I’m in the matrix, a simulation, nothing’s real
So I start pinching myself, once, then twice, to make sure I can feel
But then I cannot trust myself, so ask my boyfriend to pinch me instead
Pinch me, please just pinch me, show me this is all just in my head
and he says, Look, this isn’t right, I think you might be quite unwell
and I agree with him I say, probably, I am poorly, yes, but it’s just so hard to tell
what’s real and what’s a thought, with these monsters in my head all the time
‘That’s where I can help’, says my therapist, we can make my mind, mine
She says you are struggling with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder
Impossible I say, I’m so messy, untidy - a hoarder!
But it turns out this creatures can morph, one person to the next
and my monster camouflaged itself amidst all of my mess
As well as in laughter, that old chestnut I’m sure you’ve heard
saying: ‘I’m a bit OCD’, when you like your socks in pairs, does nothing but hurt
so much so I didn’t realise, that all of the above had a name
lost years of my life to a monster that can actually be slain
at least now I realise my obsessions are not me
they’re just symptoms of living with that hilarious joke, only, I’m not just a bit OCD.
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