A bitter, immature introvert - iambic pentameter, by James Letter
Isolation: thou art my newfound queen,
Never did I think that my home nation
Would quench my thirst for relatable theme,
My work clothed in sacred innovation. As those pesky show-offs move to expire,
Mask of sanity ebbing with each post,
My bitterness gave me a keen desire
To personally broadcast things they missed most.
Previous jealousy hath turned me sour, My moral compass disintegrated,
Gleefully observing them hour by hour
As their social circle became castrated.
Schadenfreude occupied current thoughts,
As empathy levels had become naught.
James Letter is a 19 year old writer who reads philosophy and sociology at the University of Leeds. He enjoys spare time researching the theatre of the absurd, writing short, nonsensical plays, playing piano and drinking more than a recommended amount.