My Helpers, The Stars

it’s good to have help – usually –

i asked the stars for help
(they’re so obliging)
then met them on a cold
and snowy night

been needing to arrange
my inner cosmos –
they smiled at me, and said
“we’ll make it right”

they then arrayed themselves
in such a fashion,
that eyes could not take in
such eloquence

they helped themselves
to fracturing my brain cells;
and i’ve not thought
to ask them for help, since

a lesson, then, they did to me impart:
not all who ‘help’ have our real needs
at heart

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

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