I’ll explain myself herein as much as I am able.
Well, call me Ophelia, the one who once loved Hamlet.
He said “Doubt truth to be a liar, but don’t doubt me “
Oh, Hamlet and his search of truth and his secrets.
Oh, the maddened grace and the graceful madness
that I was never wise enough to fear.
His kingdom became the nutshell. I should have seen.
I thought it no sin and very little danger
when he dressed in insufficient black and joked
metal sharp about the pin’s fee value of his life.
He came to me, speech in disarray and said:
“When I’m awake this world is prison and Denmark
is getting grayer daily. When I dream it is a savage garden.
I suffocate with smell and feeling of decay.” He cried:
“Ophelia, you were pure once. I miss you. All I see is maggots,
You would breed sinners. Why?”
And then I saw. Breed worthless maggot food and prisoners
yes why would I bring anyone into somewhere he wanted,
so badly to escape?
Method in madness, truth in lies, lies with the truth
the game that was my pain but not my business
seized to matter. All I knew, he was somewhere there was
no place for me.
I had a feeling it would come to swords.
For all he abhorred murder, my Hamlet would set the world
right or destroy himself.
Alas poor Hamlet, it ends in blood and no one’s throne.
It ends in Horatio and I sitting by the stream untangling truth from lies
and games from vengeance or ambition.
Wishing it still mattered.
Wishing there was anything to change
àäðåñà: https://www.poetryclub.com.ua/getpoem.php?id=790374
Ðóáðèêà: Ñòèõè, êîòîðûå íå âîøëè â ðóáðèêó
äàòà íàäõîäæåííÿ 05.05.2018
àâòîð: petra pan