Quirks

Everybody has some quirks

To keep us sane – whatever works.

These tics have, over time, accrued;

To rein them in might spoil our mood.

 

Some start in childhood – foods can’t touch

Or nails get bitten, as a crutch.

A certain doll must be in bed,

The same book each night must be read.

 

As we grow up, a lucky shirt

May not be washed, though caked in dirt

Or items such as rabbits’ tails,

When missing, might engender wails.

 

Adults may add, we’d all agree,

Their brand of idiosyncrasy

But that’s what makes us each unique –

One person’s “normal’s” someone’s “freak.”

 

Beware, for out there someone lurks

Who is convinced he has no quirks.