Whispers of the Soul

OCD

If I Don't...

If I don't count to ten before I step,
Will the world unravel, and darkness intercept?
What if the door swings wide, inviting a fate,
That spills forth disaster, too heavy to wait?

If I don't touch the light switch three times more,
Will shadows awaken, creeping in from the floor?
What if the silence shatters, echoing dread,
And whispers of chaos dance in my head?

If I don't check the locks, one, two, then three,
Will intruders invade, will they come for me?
What if the latch is loose, the window ajar,
And fear plays its tricks, its game from afar?

If I don't wash my hands until they're raw,
What germs will conspire to break every law?
What if each surface holds whispers of grime,
Inviting infection, a clock running out of time?

If I don't arrange my things in a perfect line,
Will the universe tremble, the stars realign?
What if the chaos spills into my soul,
And the balance I seek slips beyond my control?

If I don't say the words just right, in a row,
Will the skies grow dark, will the tempests blow?
What if my voice falters, my hopes fall apart,
Leaving echoes of doubt, a cold, heavy heart?

If I don't follow through, if I let it all slide,
Will I shatter like glass, with nowhere to hide?
What if the "what-ifs" become too much to bear,
And the weight of my worry hangs thick in the air?

But what if I pause, just for a moment's grace,
And breathe in the silence, the calm of this space?
What if I let go of the need to control,
And find strength in the chaos, the warmth in my soul?

So I stand at the edge of the ritual's demand,
Feeling the tremor of fear in my hand.
If I don't—just maybe—I'll learn to be free,
And discover the world isn't so scary to see.