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?”