cut it out

I'm not cut out for the grand stage

Lost in the crowds, my dreams in a cage

They push my finish line further each time I get close

Feeling like a ghost, lacking what they boast

From humble roots, my parents shelved their dreams

So who am I to chase mine, or to even redeem

Stage fright at five, reciting stories in class

Cold feet at fifteen, speeches I couldn't pass

Teary-eyed at eighteen, words caught in my throat

Panic attacks at twenty, trying hard to sing a note

Confide in my phone memo