When peace is torture

I wrote this on a day when my OCD hadn't bothered me at all.

So far, it’s going well

Later on, will it return?

Like always, I can’t tell;

This almost never happens.


I can’t find a trace in me

No will to check and sanitize

And certainly no anxiety

Everything seems okay.


It feels abnormal;

I’m used to it by now.

The way it makes me feel so small

In a world where danger’s just ahead


I  can’t enjoy it, although I know I should

It’s lurking in my mind

Whispering what’ll happen (it could!)

So much uncertainty…please begin again.

The End

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