An Impresario of Sorts

You’re no flash in the pan.
You are barely a spark
In the night, in the deepest dark.
Try as you might,
Things always go wrong.
Swept aside, you clearly don’t belong.
It’s not your fault.
It’s in your genes,
A pool that limits how you are seen.
Luckily, I fell into your life,
To shape you
And direct all that you do.
Some people need help
To make it through the day.
You don’t need a doctor, just do as I say.
I can’t promise the stars,
Or sudden money and fame,
But I promise that you’ll never be the same.

© 2022 Jeff E. Brown. All rights reserved.

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