Blocked from the side,
I cannot enter.
I have waited patiently
in line.
Not patiently
enough,
it seems.
The injustice
of it threatens
to flare.
But I pull
back,
seeing how unfairly
I have been
blessed.
Why have I
no words of complaint
when the universe
grants me
more than my
fair share?
The cut in the line
does not need
to bleed
so much
when the knife
is in
my hands.
I sheath my
anger
and sharpen
myself for
things better
served.
Image from sodahead.com
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