There's nothing, absolutely nothing to dream about,
Barring those in sleep. A dream is to dream, if not for anxiety and crushing souls. Besides, it cannot lack capacity to bestir oneself out of bed, wait and watch the hour hand go round while having 1 interaction pathetically through books.
but; Oh how Ophelia has been good to me.
Just as life drains itself out of me, it also gave light, brightening the world a little with the representation of femininity, the naïve and innocent girl.
At night my dreams will give me strength, it will forget about anxiety and death until... I dream for you and your innocence to never know madness or grief, never needing to drown. I am no Hamlet nor am I Laertes but ; Oh how Ophelia has been good to me. Just because she professes an amazing writer I am. She, an amazing Nobel reader who grew me hope.
This is for you OpheliaChesca
YOU ARE READING
𝙁𝙚𝙚𝙡𝙨 𝙇𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝘾𝙧𝙮𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙡 || 𝙋𝙤𝙚𝙩𝙧𝙮
PoetryDҽαʅιɳɠ ɯιƚԋ υɳʂƚαႦʅҽ ҽɱσƚισɳʂ. Wɾιƚιɳɠ αʂ ƚԋҽɾαρყ #2 on myfeelings #3 on depth
