The Fish Monger
He screamed at the top of his voice.
Turning his head furiously,at every little noise.
The mask muffled his sound,
While the eyes rolled through the balconies.
Not a lonely, "Here!" ,All deaf souls around.
Brow sweat flooded an eye corner,while tears filled the other -unable to suppress his agonies.
With an exhale of exasperation,
He thrusted a final blow on his broken paddle.
The voice bounced to another locality.
Decaying jingles of pennies-Singing to the tunes of uncertainty.
Forth & back in his 'burnt pocket' as they waddle.