On My Ownly

I let my shoulders speak, amongst the coldest peaks

No woe is me, no coat on me

My Edgar Allen Po-etry, flows in me, floetry

When focusing-

I’m a poacher for hope, when hope is hopeless in a culture 

When the coach is only me- 

And the phone don’t ring, I cope

‘Cause internally, my heart still beats to the songs I sing.