A jack of all trades
A master of none
I want to be good at something
I wish I had talent
Maybe music is my outlet, but it always falls flat
Maybe it’s my writing, but no one cares
Maybe it’s my comedy, but I am the joke they laugh it
Maybe it’s my sadness from which people might gain
Because people that always seem the happiest are the ones who deal with the most pain
Finding my way forward in a maze, on barefoot wading through the shards of glass
When things seem up, I’m always put back down, it’s always tearing me apart
I’m on my hands and knees praying for an outlet
Cut and bruised to the bone
Ripped apart from hatred and failure, my imagination torn to pieces
Creativity is my freedom, but society wants to hold me back
I need to paint a picture full of colour, but I am only given black