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Poetry from within
   

Patience and me


A Surfeit of Bushmills

I’ve not always been me,

I used to be someone else

Lots of someone elses ,

Of course some parts are constant.

But the add ons

Like cruelty or love

Change,

Or are watered down,

Beefed up,

Even dispensed with.

You always retain the capability

To reinstate them but

Often not the interest,

For they are extreme emotions

And are tiring

Taking the whole of your being for their use,

And though I don’t regret

A single

Waitress

Bargirl

Or whore

I haven’t the patience any more.

© 2010

John Cox