Being Invictus

I have a copy of William Henry’s “Invictus” pinned to my board on my office workstation. As a kid, my dad would often cite this poem, asking me to learn it by heart. Being his pet, I could go da da da on it, reciting it without a second thought. But somewhere between growing up, with no battles to be fought and no demons to be tamed, the poem lost its place to Taylor Swift’s and Avril’s songs.

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