I suppose you could call this a commentary on the nature of social awkwardness and the joy to be had in...
'I have not the fine audacity of men, who have mastered the pen, or the purse. The complexes of many slaves are in my verse. When I straightened my shoulders to look at the world boldly, I see talent coldly. Damning me to stooped attrition. Mine was a beggars mission. To dreams of beauty I should have been born blind.' Patrick Kavanagh, The Irony Of It.
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Other Works by wellington1963.
A piece about how humanity has arguably come to equal the deities of old. Any feedback appreciated!
A short story I wrote about the nature of bullying. All criticism welcome!
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