It's a crippling black-out, all around.
I turn left, right, front, and back;
Still, I remain in the central isle.
Another minute, aching step--
A carefully worded missive--
Gets me an astounding reply
Of utter, dreadful silence.
One, two, three--
Counted 'til I reached fifty.
How much further to go
Before I receive some semblance
Of sincere help and merciful respite?
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