I met a kid about my age
With the spirit of a bird finally leaving it's cage
Clear blue eyes, freckles, light hair
Perfect teeth, a breath of fresh air
43 freckles to be exact, each of them perfectly placed
For the first time ever I don't have to urge to rearrange.
Although he gives me a funny look every time I stop
To count the little grains of sugar whenever the bag drops
Yet he still takes my hand, looks me dead in the face
And he'll say something sweet as I count the freckles that were perfectly placed
And every time I get 43 and a kiss on my cheek
Oh, how I love to have someone that sees me as me.
YOU ARE READING
OCD In Verse
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