Whispers of the Soul: part 2

OCD

Cycles of Control

In the quiet of morning, when the world starts to wake,
A storm brews within me, a tremor, a quake.
Thoughts twist and tangle, like vines in my mind,
A loop of perfection that I can't leave behind.

Each tick of the clock marks a cycle unbroken,
A rhythm of worry, with words left unspoken.
"Did I lock the door?" echoes loud in my head,
A chorus of whispers that I cannot shed.

The hands of the clock spin with merciless speed,
As I chase every thought, a relentless stampede.
Fingers trace patterns, the rituals unfold,
In the search for a solace that's fleeting and cold.

I count every step, every breath that I take,
In a dance with my demons, for sanity's sake.
Yet the comfort it brings is a fleeting disguise,
For the chains of obsession wrap tighter and rise.

Each action repeated, a tether to pain,
In the shadow of doubt, I'm trapped in a chain.
I long for a moment of stillness, of peace,
But the grip of the cycle will never release.

Yet beneath all the turmoil, a flicker of light,
A whisper of hope that breaks through the night.
For I am not solely my thoughts or my fears,
In the depths of the struggle, I'll learn to persevere.

With courage, I'll face what my mind tries to claim,
To challenge the patterns that fuel the same flame.
For healing is messy, a journey, not straight,
In the tapestry woven, I'll learn to create.

So here's to the battles, the strength to let go,
To embrace the uncertainty, to allow myself flow.
In the chaos of thoughts, I'll find my own way,
In the cycles of control, I'll seize a new day.

For in every small step, there's a chance to be free,
In the heart of the struggle, I'll uncover the real me.
And though OCD lingers, I'll rise from its hold,
In the story of my life, I'll find courage bold.