The fray

[newsclippings]

Gravelled barking, the relic of seasons,
Of re-rolled fag-ends,
Sodden clothes and super strength.
Indictment and judgement in consecution.

The protest, an awkward swing,
Fist on bewildered jaw.
A graceless arc, bicycle clatter,
The crack of skull on paving stone.

The audience stands shocked,
As dishevelled outcasts drag the accused
From the lifeless, stinking heap.

"Outside Sidney Sussex, please come quick,
I think he might be dead."

I walk on with counterfeit intent.

As a free verse, this poem stands well on its own. I apologize if I skip a word as I am writing this reply through continuous sneezing.

I have a favorite phrase of yours: "re-rolled fag-ends"

But you've spelled graveled wrong. Also disheveled.

You may want to not use "the" as much. Trim the fat, so to speak.

Thanks for the read.
-S