Hamlet Along Cemetery Drive

Hamlet looked out the window of the castle, outside he saw the gardens and all of the courtyards, he looked back into his room and sank to the ground quietly. He missed her, he missed her with all his heart.

"This night..."

He always seemed to be crying, always, but he didn't care, with all the cuts up his arms, and all the pain inside him crying was a less painful alternative to his other mourning, he would cry instead of sleeping. It had been like that ever since she had died.

"...Walk the dead..."

In his sadness he always imagined her watching him, telling him not to be so sad, but he couldn't help it. He was always sad, even with the thought of Ophelia's happy, yet heartbroken smile, he missed her alright, she shouldn't have died. Horatio had said that they could figure something out, and that if Hamlet let it by he might feel better, but Hamlet didn't agree.

"...In a solitary style and crash the cemetery gates..."

That was the problem, even in the night he couldn't sleep, he wouldn't rest until he died or Opellia's ghost came to tell him he should stop mourning her death, even with his best friend (Horatio's) worrying, crying and harm were the best to him for healing, the thought of death had always been fascinating, but now it was positively delightful.

"...In the dress your husband hates..."

His mother had tried to help him, she had worn the dress she had worn when she married his father, but Claudius didn't like that, so she had to wear another. Hamlet had worn all black since Ophelia's death, the color suited him, but that wasn't his reason for wearing it.

"...Lay down..."

Even though he couldn't sleep he collapsed on the hard, cold, stone floor of his room silent tears sliding down his face. He felt sick to his stomach, this pain needed to leave him for any focus to exist in his mission to avenge his father.

"...Mark the grave..."

He knew where Ophelia was buried, he knew it by heart, Horatio often came there with him to mourn and to help Hamlet with his pain. His tears had sunk into the dirt at her gravestone and violets had grown, the same as the ones that died when he had killed her father, that thought always made him feel even worse.

"...Where the searchlights find us drinking by the mausoleum door..."

When his mother had found him and Horatio sitting by Ophelia's grave she had come to join them, even though it was the dead of the night and they were all supposed to be indoors they drank a toast to the girl who's body lay below the Earth at their feet.

"...And they found you on the bathroom floor..."

The door to his room opened an Hamlet was brought back to reality. His mother stood there, he couldn't see her face, but he could see a tear slide down her cheek. 'Oh Hamlet... why are you always sad? It makes me sad too...'

"...I miss you..."

'I miss her...' Hamlet choked out as Gertrude came over and sat next to her son. In his mind he could only see Ophelia and him when they were children, happily watching Yorick act out a story of a prince saving a young girl from drowning. They were so young and innocent, so happy... something neither would ever experience again.