Cherry-Picker

I fear my problem is picking a problem to make my own,
For I fear I have none, and it shows, they all know.
I fear there are simply too many problems at once,
And trying to find the solution's a stunt.
I fear there will soon be a calling for me,
A beckoning, reckoning, bellowing plea,
A harp in B Minor, with blood on the strings,
Singing me the most beautiful things;
But what could I do for someone so practiced?
I'd be mal-aligned, I'd cause such a racket,
Your beautiful song, is yours to play dear,
For I fear I will fall if I try to stay near.
It's lead me this far and it's haunted me long, but if I stay focused I can carry on.
I just need to know this, one final proposal, will I ever be more than at your disposal?