Nothing for good

Ingenius I’m sure I said to Mom

I never got that kind of help

What is it that I am to be good at?

I can’t paint a picture or knit a hat

Nor paint a wall or create a masterpiece

I can’t play guitar or bang a drum

I am as ever the odd one out

‘The middle child’

Always forgotten

‘You just seemed to get on with it’

But where was the choice

The determination

Jack of all trades

But not even that

Forgotten

And now it’s self pity

What a shame

Have a blart

Good for nothing

Nothing for good