A Little Thing Called Life

O and C but why the D?

Tossing and turning in my bed-sheets,

Mind too restless and my heart – rapidly it beats,

Sleeping is futile when I can't stop thinking,

That feeling of slowly sinking.

.

Resisting is pointless when my head always wins,

So I don't even try and my walking begins,

I roll out of bed despite the dark sky,

And wish both eight hours and my bed goodbye.

.

I trek to the bathroom and check each tap,

My heart at breaking point – I'm ready to snap,

My hands come next and I turn on the faucet,

I pump on the soap and then begin my brutal cosset.

.

I could scrub them all day and they wouldn't be clean,

Until they're red and raw with more pain in between,

Sore and dry, easy to spot and easy to spy,

Hiding it isn't something I can be bothered to try.

 .

Observant are people and questioning is vital,

Something must be done and mother is the doer's title,

Soon I'm somewhere I don't want to be,

The questions come now even more rapidly.

.

It's a quick-fire round and I don't know the answers,

I nod my head serenely as I dodge questions as if a dancer,

Obsessive, I admit, compulsive I agree,

Then they add disorder and suddenly it hits me.

.

All along I've been different somebody to watch,

But never did they assume my obsession meant that much,

Now they're looking at me and giving me a label,

When I admitted from the beginning that I really wasn't stable.