Syndrome
Boxes must be in alphabetical order
Fruit in the shop stacked just perfectly
Books on a shelf in order of title
Or in height, so they look nice
A stray hair causing agony to a tired mind
Constantly obsessing over little things
Rows of tomatoes perfectly spaced
A single plant out of line...ugh
The world must be logical
The world must be in order
It isn't, but that's people's faults
The screaming ones, the disruption
Like a clot being scratched from a wound
Order, please, order
No riots, no yelling
Quiet tones, like a library
Quiet, please, quiet
Don't scream in my face, it hurts
Let's just be silent and think about logic
Logic, beautiful, impartial logic