I have the book
With all the answers
From all the mistakes
I’ve made
Everything now has
Been corrected
In an orderly, timely procession
A procedural manual
For sure-fire success
I have lived through the burns
The anguish
Of immature judgments
And impulsive invincibility
That has lead me up
This 90 degree angle
Slaying the cursory dragons
Along the way.
Now I open my book to you
Old and tattered
Be that it may
Each page packed
With suggestions
For an airtight life.
But you, my child
Leave the book unopened
Instantly putting it aside
To create your own stories
Of trials and tribulations
Your own dragons slain
No interest in my history
Other than a trajectory glimpse
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