Toolbag

Inside and outside

Lay the tools to a fruitful life

Made of iron, steel, and listening.

At my belt, the tools alternate

And I am often unprepared

For the occasion

Yet always running and sweating

to fill my toolbag.

Too cool

I am only bothered by your question marks
And your artificial doubts
That pose ridiculous installed on my way.
My voice is calm, my reason clear,
You will hear them
Until my coffee gets cold.