Patience
my friend
why are you sitting at the fence
patience, at an end ?
she was your virtue, personified
her quintessence of beauty
hope creaked at the joints that night
once learnt, never forgotten her duty
his quintessence of terror
wounded vanity
feeling inferior
driven to the point of insanity
signs of bitterness in his expression
she feels lost in her own, unable to read his mind
be lost in self-reflection
got lost to the utmost, unable to find
patience
to my own regrets
I am at her wit’s end
slander the usual suspect
she is, the last, vulnerable
get hold of. . . and bear in. . .
don’t weigh upon her. . .
a beautiful mind, grieving
when the sky is overcast, lying low and lower
by a stroke of fate you embraced grave doubts
lavish care and attention on your anger
pointing finger, blaming society for an emotional drought
demanding change vigorously from the people next door
you talk big, admit you gaped in astonishment
you fell passionately in love with what you’re living for
you flare up, ‘this nightmare should come to an end’
‘it must have been in nineteen-nighty one’ , all he said
they call you
‘sample with no commercial value’
Patience.
Pen 'N' Paper
Copyright © 2011
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