I fold my tshirts like she told me.

Yet it does not fix the whole me.

I clean the counters

Scrub the sinks

Yet I can’t avoid to think.

As my list gets smaller, my thoughts grow taller

I get things done, yet I have no fun.

You see, the more I do the worse it gets

I wish my mind would stop these fits

As I wait to feel my rest is my turn

The rage inside me begins to burn

The more I do the more I fret

When will these obsessive needs be met?

The only relief Is late at night.

When I tuck myself in all snug and tight.

I fall asleep right away

Even though I wasted my day.

When will my daunting frontal cortex

Stop sucking me into its perpetual vortex ?