morning drizzle
against a cold window
fermenting wine
© Rachel Green December 2024
When nightmares strike my feeble, midnight brain
what do I dream, that terrors strike once more
and take me back to times of childhood pain
where local lads would rake my body raw;
and beat me for the crime of being queer
or shun me in the classroom while I cried
for love not freely offered but through fear
when questioned thus by adults ofttimes lied.
As adult, then, an office worker drone
with stacks of paper files and scribbled notes
subjected to the fear of tasks not done
recipient of ridicule and jokes.
Is it of any wonder that I scream
injustice comes again within a dream.
© Rachel Green December 2024
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