Grieving her beloved father deceived
Yet unable to shake off her feelings for
The one she loved, also the reason
for her beloved's demise
Competing the madness of her lover, Hamlet
Alas, his was feigned, aimed at gain
While hers was rooted in genuine loss
Leading her at last to losing her life as well
Madness, like true love, afterall deserves but one place
At the bottom of a heart or a brook deep enough
To drown all the grief and innocence
While the artful lunacy ascends the throne
Wearing a crown of shrewdity adept
Having at last shaken off the act
Would Hamlet's heart ever beat
For the poor Ophelia
Who lived and died for zilch
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