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Over Controlling Demise
May 7, 2015
I tear him apart, piece by piece,
make him doubt every single moment.
Every second, every minute, every hour, every day.
I make a single thought brew in his stomach
and his brain and in his soul.
I cancel out the positive Summer days,
where bliss, family and friends lie.
I make him remember the uncomfortable times,
the uneasy points, the scary days.
Why make joy when you can make doubt?
After all, isn’t that what life is all about?
Over
Controlling thoughts, causing his emotional
Demise.
© Conor G., Harvard, MA
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My mental condition, also known as OCD, is the main focus of this poem.