Zelda Yang
I couldn’t avoid being a poet,
We are no longer in the past,
Which of Beethoven’s symphonies;
This is very bad for my reputation,
That is your steppingstone.
It is a benefit that those,
The workers and the hustlers,
Just forget about you and me.
Something of a secret sin,
In space apparently defenseless,
Beat up the light with their silver hooves;
Nestles the seed perfection.
Recycled Poetry 