OCD by Neil Hilborn: A Poem



Poetry is so incredibly subjective that it's hard to discuss. Now that's not to say there aren't certain things that can define quality: rhythm, tempo, and rhyme schemes all would be included in a deep dissection of a poem. What makes it difficult is the very thin line poetry must walk between honest and well crafted, personal while avoiding triteness, and creative while maintaining a level of accessibility.

This poem could so easily have veered off into soapy cheese, or sloppy writing, but instead it's deeply earnest, original, accessible, and delivered with an intensity truly meant.

There's not much else to say on it. It's amazing and heartbreaking. Sometimes art doesn't need deep analysis. Sometimes it should just breathe.

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