So the numbers 2,4,6 and 8 are dear to me
and this is all thanks to my OCD
Odd numbers provide uncomfortably
Even numbers provide me with a form of safety
Shoes on twice, light switches on 8
These rituals ensuring I am always late
Sorry am late it must be fate that I am controlled by the number 8
I sometimes challenge these torturous thoughts
But I end up drowning and these rituals are lifeboats
It’s a raging ocean inside my head
A head filled with dread making me wish I was dead
So I go back to bed and obsess instead
My ripped soul requires a needle and thread
8 stitches only please I said.
By Sara Blaylock