they say patience is a virtue, but patience has its limits too.
patience allows you to fill your mind with something other than the slow beeping of a heart monitor, asks you to hold their hand gently in yours as you wait, futilely. patience tells you to keep calm and carry on, with a smile plastered on your face like a performer’s mask never to be taken off in front of the audience. patience keeps your hopes up, high above the stars where the wishes of desperate ones cannot reach.
but patience can never resurrect loved ones buried six feet under the ground. it is a virtue but not a god, so you can beg for mercy but you’ll never be spared. just like unwatered flowers wilt as time passes and the ticking of a clock echoes loud in your ears, reminding you that there are unwritten rules of this universe that you cannot break. under the facade of patience, are restrained waves of stormy anger, frustration at your helplessness, your ability to only watch, and wait. the wailing sirens are blaring at you, for an emergency exit, for an outlet to unleash it all before it brings you to your grave.
you run out of patience, and continue to live the next day.
[a/n: this was a shitty drabble but somebody liked it so]