Photo by lalesh aldarwish

Anatomy Of Failure

Do not the things I have done

George Blue Kelly
Real
Published in
3 min readJul 15, 2024

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In this same place, within these old cold brown walls, and in the same winter, he was brought lower than a rag. Not by an animal, (though some may argue such a soul canst be called nothing but), but by a fellow man.

His head is lowered, in that dark alley — close to that place. That place where he works. Yes, that same place he was treated like a rag. He’s leaning against the jagged wall of the alley.

“Cigarette! I need one.” He ransacked his pockets fruitlessly and sighed heavily and disappointedly.

The scene he thinks about is not the one around him, that you and I can see. It’s the one in his head; the dark storm in his soul—one of a broken heart, and a disabled spirit.

“How long?” Were the words that fell out of him. Words he regretted as soon as they hit the floor. He hissed and punted those words far from him; (for he was ashamed they came from him).

Few men are strong enough to face the truth.

I doth not call them weak.

Howbeit, men who walk the path of truth, regardless of its consequences, shall find something others may never. Yes!

But this man, standing right here, appears to be amongst those with the courage to face the truth head-on.

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George Blue Kelly
Real
Editor for

True stories of an immigrant from the shores of Sicily