Whispers of the Soul

OCD

Locked Doors, Locked Mind

In the hallway of my restless thoughts,
Locked doors line the walls, a web of knots.
Each handle a question, each key a refrain,
Echoes of doubt that spiral through my brain.

I wander the corridor, feeling the weight,
Of doors tightly shut, the burden of fate.
Turn the handle once, then twice, then again,
The whispers inside me—will they ever end?

Behind each door, a world of fear waits,
Shadows of worries, and unseen fates.
What if I've left the stove on, the lights still aglow?
What if the world crumbles; where do I go?

I check the locks, the security tight,
In the depth of the night, I'm gripped by fright.
Each turn of the key, a ritual dance,
A need to control, to seize every chance.

But the more that I check, the more I'm ensnared,
In a prison of thoughts that leave me impaired.
Locked doors keep me trapped in a labyrinth spun,
With no way to escape, no solace, no sun.

The mind becomes cluttered, a tangle of fears,
Each lock, a reminder of past and of tears.
I long for a window to open, to breathe,
To let in the light, to let go and believe.

Yet still, I am tethered to patterns ingrained,
The compulsion to check, to avoid all the pain.
With each passing moment, I'm caught in a grind,
Behind locked doors, in this locked, heavy mind.

What lies on the other side, I can only assume,
Anxiety's echo, a dark, crowded room.
I yearn for the courage to face what I dread,
To unlock the doors, to break free from my head.

So here in the silence, I take a deep breath,
And try to imagine a life beyond death—
Not death of the body, but death of this strife,
To find peace in the chaos, to reclaim my own life.

I'll learn to let go, to trust and to stand,
To turn the locked doors into openings grand.
For each key that I find, I'll use with intent,
To unlock all the chains that my own mind has lent.