The Assistant
When they gush over him, it drives me berserk.
He gathers the praise while I do all the work.
He blissfully gathers the laurels they strew
not once giving credit where credit is due.
When they think of his death, they find the thought numbing.
They think with his end no more genius is coming.
Imagine the shock that will light up their eyes
when the ideas keep coming, much to their surprise,
and they finally learn that the ideas were mine.
When his sun finally sets will be my turn to shine!
