I cannot formulate the words I want to convey
I want to say that I'm frustrated
I want to say that I'm impatient
I want to say that I'm being crushed with a workload

But that is not enough

The tremble of my flesh aches from inside my skin and out
I feel the tension flowing through my bones as if they were a calming drug gone wrong
A drug meant to infuriate
A drug meant to devour your hope from inside out
And it's sad to say that I've been feeling this for so long

I hardly carry any of that gift that many speak of
The gift of contentedness that wobbles upon your shoulders as thin as air
That keeps you calm and serene, floating above
The rest of the people who are swimming satisfied in their own misery
As for me
I am drowning

Drowning under air, drowning under an imaginary pile of feelings and emotions
And things that I refuse to think about or even acknowledge
I sometimes pretend that I have no heart at all
I watch all the others around me banter and fall
I stay clinging to the hope I don't have
To keep myself safe

I am not safe

What is safe?
Secure?
Content?
The actual definition varies from flesh to fresh
I have not found my definition yet
But I know it's not this
Then why,
Why do I cling so tightly to the hope I do not possess?
In hopes of keeping myself in a tranquil, loveless, rest?

Yes