Patience is a Virtue

Patience is a paradox that travels with a sword
Because time comes at a premium that no one can afford
Every good moment is stolen, and it cannot be long stored
Before words minced up and supercuts and futures that you’re facing
Become swallowed pills of bitter stills and hours set to wasting
To ignore the past or bring it back or leave it better tasting
And that patience, Robin Hood reversed, helps only until needed
Acting every bit the hero for the slightly inconvenient
While it runs its rusty blades to dust in guts of love defeated
Did it win the title, “virtue,” ‘cause it killed all that competed?
I’m no master of its methods, I’m just certain that it cheated