Patience is a fickle matter
A virtue lost to me
Provocative, the idea may be
Infuriating, the practice seems to me
Frustration holds much more comfort
Immediate gratification of all sorts
I need to be broken
Impatience is without much
Respect, Honor and Love
A sad form resides in my place
Distraught at this indecent weakness
“Where do I direct my stride?”
“What is my next step?”