I am a misfit. There, I said it. I cannot recall a time in my life where I felt easy in this or any place. I observed, quietly. Slowly I learned to build a cone of invisibility about my heart and soul. I wrote poetry when young. I stopped then began all over when old. This review of English World War 1 poets resonates - as it stresses that the misfitery of the poet's heart transcends mere circumstance.
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