Patience

I am running out of patience,
slowly, steadily, 
like fragrance,
oozing out of a bottle of perfume.
 
I am in a silo,
which feels hollow,
as my boat doesn't float,
on water which is shallow.
 
Numerous steps forward,
my dreams are cornered,
visibly diminished,
but not lacking in character.
 
Patience is pain,
I forget it's virtue,
the strength I need to regain,
to carry on again.
 
I am tired,
and yet inspired,
to do the things,
I desired.