Knotted with weird obsessions,
Too much work and no time for a vacation.
Floating within the dilemma
Of what’s perfect and what isn’t.
All we needed was a prism
And not this brain’s prison.
It feels like being in a space suit,
Without the provision for ventilation.
The constant visuals run and rapidly,
Leaving the mind on the brink to explode.
Unable to get hold of thoughts and control,
While it’s nobody else but the mind who’s its own troll.
Often spaced out on productivity,
Cos’ the OCD keeps us busy.
It’s the odyssey through the OCD,
That keeps us occupied.
It’s like a racecar in full speed,
Which won’t stop anytime soon or even take easy.
Parag Kadam 