The concept of this came to me the other night when I was writing a poem vaguely inspired by the military, and I realized that there are times where I don't actually know dick about the life experiences I try to touch on in my writing, and that made me feel weird and spoiled in a way, for lack of better words. This piece is me reciting the poem Invictus by William Ernest Henley, a poem about strife and personal pain, while beating the tar out of myself with a belt. It hurt. A lot. The point of it all was to ingrain myself with the poem, one I consider a personal favorite, and to try and juxtapose my own attempts to create characters in my work with the idea of finding inspiration in one's own life.
Next time, don't hurt yourself so much for art. Interesting.
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