My Carers

There's two of me, but only one of you, So can I please use your hands to see me through? As my invisible person in a group of five or more, Having no mandate to boast, control or score. Will you watch me multipy whilst I thrive? And question that rude, domineering carers' hive, Where the bossy claim to know and be in control, To see them leave to steer their own precious bowl? Oh care manager! Will you let me define? My invisible person, without my family line? 'Cos she is my motion and my engine of ablutions, By which I drive my ambitions, with intentions.