I can strongly relate to the phrase
“Jack of all trades, master of none.”
I loved singing
in a room full of people
who had never sung before
I thought I was good,
until I heard someone better.
I picked up sports,
ran across courts with pride,
but the moment someone outran me,
that pride quietly died.
I could sketch—
Imperfect but mine
until I saw hands
Whose strokes would shine
I realized that my hands drew nothing but imperfect lines.
I could knit beautiful scarves,
threading love and warmth into every stitch
but then I saw someone
weave stories that spoke out loud,
rich beyond reach.
I could do it all,
Name it,
Singing and dancing or drawing and knitting.
You name it.
But I could never call it mine,
Cuz even though i could do it,
I never really shined
Now i wonder—
will I ever find
a single thing,
I can truly call mine?
Or is it just who I\'ve become—
A jack of all trades,
a master of none.