Dream

I could not speak but jabs of scorn pecked near
And others joined to colour in the spite
Each probing thorn would jostle with its peer
And sneering goad a yet more vicious fight
The rhythmic waves compounding sour intent
Enriched with barbs of viciousness gave vent
To mocking screech and shrill reviling scourge
A roar of rancor seeking how to purge
A deep and rich cacophony of bile
Both open blatant brash and using guile
Concocted accusations sought out shame
“Your wretched life is more than just a game!”
I stepped out early swinging through the line
The singing tingling soaring power was mine.