My Demon

I've been counting syllables I count in groups of eight; Though most find my plight laughable, My gearshift ming I hate. "Don't step on cracks," it says to me With such fervor, it knows I can't back down or look away; A puppet giving shows. Although I pray, I beg and plead, The guilt just won't subside; Six million deaths, all on my hands This demon does confide. Everyone can see the grip This monster has on me Through tapping, counting, organizing And longing to be free.