Am I but your Ophelia in this play of ours -
in this life so twisted?
Am I doomed to drown by my own hand,
singing as the water brings Death to me?
Are you to say you loved me not, dear Hamlet,
only to proclaim the opposite upon my grave?
Tell me now what is the truth,
or is there no truth, only insanity?
I hear your words, both of affection and scorn,
but there is no comfort in contradiction.
Tell me how you truly feel now,
lest I be lost to a watery grave.
Author notes
Er, if you don't understand what this is about at all, look up Hamlet or something, I guess. . or you could just ask for clarification.
Critique?
Comments
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Aha.
Hence why you were laying on the floor, drowned.
Hence the prattling on in French about Hamlet.
I honestly got a lil distracted by the background.. it's pretty.. and blue... and like water..
Oh, um, anywhooo, extremely pretty, emotional poem.
Great work kel (:
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Thanks. =3
My elbow has a mark on it from you dragging me across the floor. 0w0 -
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... and you really needed to know that
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WELCOME ^-^
ookay, this has noda to do with your poem. but i took this quiz online. it said pick your favorite color. i picked black.
The results:
Black color preferences point to black sex (not necessarily meaning black partners). These people are the misfits of the sex world and seek out each other in kinship. They tend to prefer perverted sex and are usually masochistic or sadistic in nature. They are moody people and often perform at their peak when under stress or during unhappy times. Police psychiatrists claim that sex offenders prefer the color black. And it is no coincidence that the uniform of mobsters and teenage gangs is black attire.
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whoa
Very dramatic and exhilerating.
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