Whispers of the Soul

OCD

Symmetry

In the quiet corners of my mind,
A restless pulse, a need defined.
Lines must align, and edges must meet,
In the dance of order, I find my heartbeat.

The world feels right when everything's neat,
A careful arrangement, a rhythmic beat.
I stack the books, I straighten the chairs,
In the art of symmetry, I find my repairs.

Each object placed with meticulous care,
A fleeting relief in the cool, crisp air.
But just as I breathe in the calm of the day,
A whisper of chaos pulls me away.

The clock on the wall ticks in perfect time,
Yet seconds stretch out, a mountain to climb.
I find comfort in patterns, in perfect designs,
But the moment I settle, uncertainty whines.

"Just one more touch," I think with a sigh,
A flick of the curtain, a glance at the sky.
Yet symmetry shatters like glass on the floor,
And the peace I once had feels distant once more.

In the search for perfection, I build and I mold,
A fragile facade that I clutch like pure gold.
But with each small victory, a shadow looms near,
A cycle of order wrapped tightly in fear.

I breathe in the rhythm, the neatness I crave,
But soon I discover, it's a dance I can't save.
The world shifts and tilts, a cruel little jest,
And I find myself longing for an unburdened rest.

Yet still, I arrange, I reorder my space,
Seeking the solace of a perfectly placed face.
But the moment is fleeting, like grains of fine sand,
Slipping through fingers, not as I had planned.

So I chase the illusion, the calm that it brings,
In the symmetry's grasp, my anxiety clings.
With each careful measure, I find but a spark,
Only to falter when shadows grow dark.

And though I may yearn for a world that feels right,
I carry the burden of this endless fight.
In the search for balance, I dance with my fate,
In a life full of chaos, seeking to create.