Untitled 4

In the early hours of tranquil mornings,
I see everything clearly,
It's like someone has removed the lense I normally see things through,
The cool air seems to understand the importance of its duty to wash over the dimly lit skies,
Like tides,
Gentle and patient,
Unlike me,
My patience run out like blood gushing out of an open wound, then dripping lazily as I watch,
with crippling helplessness.
I suture it with feeble threads of lies,
I am saturated with okays.
An hour,
A day,
A month passes by,
This impatience,
This eagerness,
This hunger for something more doesn't subside at all,
It only sublimes into frustration.
An emotion suppressed always turns into a negative feeling,
It becomes stagnant like still waters,
Love suppressed becomes obsession,
Anger suppressed becomes rage,
Fear suppressed becomes terror,
Sadness suppressed morphes into dread.
I carry these sorrows within me like organs vital to my existence. 
Wrapped inside my bones, streaming in my veins, bumping out of my heart with every
Single 
Beat.
I've kept to myself for too long and no one seemed to notice or mind,
I've learned to camouflage myself into the background,
I am a shadow of my former self,
My words are tucked safely under a quilt of silence,
They simmer until they evaporate into another state.
If only I could know its origin, if only I could locate it,
maybe then things would change.
If I could have the things that would end my restlessness.
But the happiness I've tasted has always been droplets of water smeared on my chapped lips,
Amplifying my need to have it.
I am tired,

Drained.
And I still hold my up my armor, keeping a good fight against this, waiting for it to pass.