Perspective

I know I’d never say the very words
That I’m about to say, were I within
The line that’s stretching patience very thin
And waiting on necessities, the herds
In waiting growing bigger by the hour,
Hurting for a thing so very small
That any other time would ne’er at all
Be thought a major difficulty – power,
Gas, or double As – or, likely, Ds,
The kind that any flashlight may require,
Sitting in the dark and feeling ire
Rise at the injustice.  All of these
Are reasons I would rant, and would connive,
Forgetting, then, that I am still alive.