The Story of Ophelia

Cool winds roll in from the edges of the water,
Brushing against Ophelia's soft skin,
Shedding the artificial cloak of naivety.

She lives as others' vessel of morality,
With her father and brother rejecting her flaws
While feeding her fears of intimacy and carnal desire.

However, an infatuation still envelops her, clouding her vision.
As her lover, Hamlet grips her heart tightly in his palms
Playing her like a marionette and toying with her emotions.

The eyes of Hamlet hold contempt and revulsion,
Seeing Ophelia as impure as a harlot
And a deceitful and perverse lover.

Obedient and meek, a split grows within her being
Unsure if she is pure or merely tainted,
And if her love is only futile.

Wandering on the outskirts of the pond,
She carries flowers and sings of the loss of innocence
With each flower that she passes on.

Ophelia steps into the water with delicate feet
As the waves slowly surround her.
The water rises - hugging, embracing her entire being.

Wearing the weight of eternal purity,
Her garments grow heavy
Floating softly around her body.

Peaceful, the burdens and malice fade away
Resting passively as she disappears
Calmly and quietly beneath the surface.