Obsession

I can’t stand dirt,

so I wash my hands repeatedly,

removing the scum off the palms of my sweaty hands,

still not good enough.

 

I can’t stand the residue the soap leaves on my skin,

I rewash my hands again,

displeased that they look relatively the same.

Why do they look so filthy?

 

I hate the little specks of grime embedded in the crevices of my fingers,

it really needs to be removed,

so I wash my hands again.

This time they look even worse,

almost as if I rolled around in a pile of mud.

 

Why won’t the grunge come off?

It’s staining my hands and won’t go away,

this is truly inconvenient.

 

I increase the temperature of the water,

it is scalding.

My hands are raw and beat red,

bleeding from the constant rubbing,

chapped from the hot water.

 

I continue to pump more soap into my hands,

creating more suds,

fluffy clouds of white bubbles,

covering my skin,

still not good enough,

but then again nothing ever is.

Not when you’re a victim of obsessive-compulsive disorder,

my disease has taken over me.

I repeat this routine everyday of my life,

and I don’t know how to stop myself,

because I truly am contaminated by dirt.

Reviews

[Last Lying Look]

Wow.
It would be such a difficult thing to live life this way.
Great poem!
-Elissa

[J.Black]

OH MY WORD!
This was wonderful, I have OCD, honestly amy, I do, ahaha. I dont have the phobia of washing my hands cause of germs though. When I go up the stairs I need to honestly start with my right foot, and end with my left at the top. If I don't I feel an unbalance.
Anywho, enough physcology for one day. WELL DONE