This wasn't meant for you not this life. You weren't meant to lose yourself this young and see paradise.

But your soul was brave, so in the next life don't you run and hide. This world just couldn't hold something so prue, take it in stride.

You have given us something that this earth could never tear apart, you put one hundred and ten percent into giving us your heart.

But even that wasn't enough to stay ahead, you did all you can and reached your end, and now you are off to bed.

It pains us to see you go on. You've been alone for along time and now you get to rest eternally at home.

But my heart still aches and with every tear drop there's a new break.

I've lost one already and now I say goodnight to another. Sweets to the sweet, farewell my lover.

Ever been happy so much,
You cried?

Ever been sad so much,
You laughed?

Yeah,
I love so much that I hate
I hate, so I must love
I'm a living mess
Who am I, wandering this place?

And know that I mean what I say,
I say what I know
But I know that not knowing anything
Is what I know the best.

A mess, tangled in wires
Of unsorteable emotions and
Unrecognized behaviours
Unknown thoughts,
Uncommon, just another head in the clouds.
Who are you to change this world?

A living contradiction.

To be or not to be?
To live, or not to live?
I know the unknowable thoughts

Because everyone knows what they do not know.
Everyone has their reason to live,
Or not to live.
So I said let it be!

So you can proudly say,
»I know the unknown!«

So you can always say,
»I know the unknown!«

Like the king of a rainy country, am I!
Rich, but weak, young with an agèd eye -
The grovelling of his old tutors he scorns,
The company of dogs leaves him forlorn.
Nothing can bring him joy, no hunt nor falconry,
Nor the mortal jousts  before his balcony,
From his favourite jester no ***** tale
Can redden the cheek of one so pale.
His ornate chamber has become a tomb -
And courtesans, *******-clad, to whom,
Though royal favours inspire their provocation;
This skeletal youth finds no temptation.
Flamel himself could forge no plan
To extract the dark humours from this man.
In the baths of blood from days of yore,
He finds no properties to restore
This dazed corpse in whose veins once red -
Now flows the green waters of Lethe instead.

Shakespeare wrote, "All
the world is a stage" So when
I laugh at myself

I'm only being
an engaged audience and
when I applaud at

the end I am just
thanking God for his good sense
of Hamlet humor

To watch or not to watch.
That is the question;whether it is nobler in my mind to suffer the feels and emotions of addicting shows and yet be so in love with them.
To watch, to cry.
One more episode and only sleep will help me to end.
The heartache and the thousand cinematic shocks the writers are obsessed with.
‘tis a consuming world with everything I wish.
To watch, to cry. To cry-- perhaps too much. Ay, but it's worth it.
For, when watching these shows and knowing what feels may come, when we have shuffled off this depressing factor, we must not forget the humor that makes happiness last oh so long.
To watch characters travel the depths of space and time.
The detectives prove wrong the proud men and even the relationships and love ‘tween the main protagonists.
The insolence of the hiatus that even patient fangirls cannot take. When we go on great adventures with a hobbit and a ring. Who could bear the long wait? To punt a sweat is a weary life. To discover world's unknown from books or shows. We travellers never want to return.
Our fangirl hearts burn and even still
We would rather bear the tears we have Than live in a world where there are none.  Thus Fangirls are not cowards, not at all
Thus we are heroes so very proud
So we proudly say take flight on the enterprise with Captain Jean Luc
We bare our lights sabers alight
And lose ourselves in the action
Go we now happy as could be-- off to fangirl forever 
To be normal? Ha! Never.

Shakespeare was always fond of tragedies.*
From the star-crossed lovers of Verona,
Romeo and Juliet,
to the revenge-stricken prince of Denmark, Hamlet.
Sometimes I wonder
if he was the author of our fate,
for our love has slowly become a tragedy.


(k.p.)

I have seen many faces in my day,
Not one I have forgot,
Only to catch her in May,
She came all the way from Denmark to stay.

Shy as I was, down by what once was,
Denmark’s girl was there to kept my secrets.
Sarah swept me away, angelic beauty.
She cares not of societies troubling regrets.

I think she doesn’t mind my company,
Random conversation shines the day,
Wearing darkness, black for days.
Black like my dreams, bring me to my knees.

Not effected by our decaying world,
Neglected like always.
We share the darkness,
Black as her dress, she lingers in my dreams always.

I struggle to grasp the remains of Denmark’s warmth
As silent tears of grief run down my porcelain cheeks.
Each night grows colder in the emptiness of my bed,
The crown a deadweight.

Black fabric cloaks the kingdom,
Blending in with the grey clouds that gather in the sky,
Weighing down the crown,
Drowning everyone in a dark sea.

But I saw the face of my husband--
No, the face of a brother.
Yet he shares the same slanting eyes
The peaks on his forehead
And the curves of his lips.

That face washes away the pain in my heart
As he smiles with kindness that reflects that of the old King.
He warms the silk sheets of my barren bed
And shares the weight of the crown.

Now, white silk touches the hearts of Denmark,
A contrast to the grey clouds looming in the sky,
Lightening the gold of the crown,
Lifting everyone onto a bright cloud.

I close my eyes and my thoughts drift to dear Hamlet.
What a tragedy for him to lose a father
And it is my duty to give him one.

All that lives must die,
But my husband is not one life that must.

Light of my life,
The slings and arrows
Of outrageous fortune
Bloom a rose
In the deeps of my heart.

And so I came forth
But could not behold the stars.
The slings and arrows,
They trespassed upon my thoughts.

And I cried that I came
To this great stage of fools,
But it echoed loudly within me
Because I am hollow at the core.

That outward existence which conforms,
This inward life which questions
Confusion now hath made his masterpiece of.  

I don't exactly know
What I mean by that,
But I mean it.