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Self (Part Two) - 16/12/1998

I am rife with imperfection, riddled with insecurity,
my ruse is self-confidence, my habit is popularity.
My mind is unremarkable my talents are simply meagre,
no genius, no brilliance, my mind possesses neither.
For I am mere mortal and my flaws are all too apparent
oh that I was satisfied with my own paltry talent.
So is it just vulgar vanity to wish and to yearn,
or is my aching ambition no cause for concern?
I wish for so much, perhaps I should not,
maybe I should be happy, give thanks for my lot.

I am but a simple man and it pains me to put it so,
For I am unremarkable, a light that is barely aglow.
 
© Nicholas Vosper 2001