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.
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