Over and Over, Again and Again — OCD

A poem about living with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder

Photo by @felipepelaquim on Unsplash

Scrubbing hard and angry,
I wash my hands.
They can’t be clean.
I wash them over and over
again and again until
they’re raw, red,
cracked, and bleeding
with my decontamination efforts.
The problem compounds
with bloody red lines etched
into the backs of my hands.
I’m unclean, a biohazard.
Bandaids slide off…



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Aimée Gramblin

Aimée Gramblin

Memoirist-in-progress with the collective awakened and awakening consciousness. Love + Courage = Love Evolution. Creativity Fiend. Goofy by nature.