Poet Heal Thyself

Make 'um rhyme,
Make 'um ring,
Make those people wanna sing.

Keep 'um cumin',
Don't hold back,
Tear out the stops, stay on the track.

They don't care where you come from,
they're eyes an' ears;
Not some-one.

Your battered heart,
That tattered soul,
Don't make excuses for your droll.

When morning comes,
And dark is light,
That's when your mind might wanna fight.

Don't let it win,
It's not your loss,
Besides, it's your mind, it ain't your boss.


Stand up when you hear that bell,
Tell the stories you gotta tell,
 You got a sorry soul to sell.