Fuel Scarcity Poem by Driven Endowed

I took a walk to a filling station today,
I was sent on an errand to purchase fuel,
My keg was shivering front and back;
Like a matching hand.

I slung the keg to my shoulder,
There I saw a queue in a crowd,
I was taken by shockness,
A queue of Buses in tired rows,
Having being waited for so long.

Hold-up help the street,
Accelerator of Buses turns weightless,
It was taken as a bad day for Travellers,
For the traffic-jam held was uncontrollable.

I disrupted my stand,
For that situation I do not understand;
'Is that the only filling station in town? '
I faced my part as my own.

I couldn't move closer to their position,
Hooting of Buses was deserted by peace;
'Are you mad? Is it your turn? '
Inflammatory remarks were rendered on eachother.

I left the position with pitiness,
'Is this how we will suffer with fuel scarcity? '
Mr. President Sir, we reign for our foreseen happiness,
For this fuel scarcity must be sent into a bout of disastrocity.