i never wanted to be the tragic heroine.at all.
my father and hamlet played with me.i was their toy
the weakened soul rises above the natural soil.
but him. that wretched soul.
everyone wants the dress and the stallion galloping in.
but not some fool. acting out of sheer craziness.
who pushes me deeper under the soil.to the watery mud.
and once i get there, the mud is gone.
the darkness leaves. and again i’m alone.
with eyes the willow sways.
where my mind tells me to follow, to the white light
a big swan dive. the end.
but not for the rest of the tale.
for things will get wreck less.
death will boil and brew over all of denmark
i’m leaving before things get ugly.before i get blamed.
a lady has no place in such violence.