Florence Nightingale

Just hide the truth son.
I won’t be mad.
Go on, go on and prosper.
I’ve paved the path for you.
Can’t you see?
Go on, it’s nothing but diamonds and gold.
But I get it.
You’re the prodigal son.
The golden spoon.
The fortunate one.
And don’t forget it.
You’re the rising sun.
The harvest moon.
Fooling everyone.
Vicariously, I live through you.
No one, no one will ever know that I’m the dollars behind the boy writing every
check.
No one, no one will read my name in the liner notes.
My efforts have been trivialized like a story tale.
A la Florence Nightingale.
And you’re about to be found out.