Ophelia
Excuse me, but I have a problem
with how I was explained away.
There was nothing pretty about what happened,
nothing romantic.
I wasn’t singing, or picking flowers.
I was lucid then.
I knew my name.
I remembered my father
and how he was explained away too.
I never floated on water.
What nonsense is that?
There is nothing pretty about drowning.
Let us, for once, tell this story right.
I jumped. I suspect you knew that already.
I am sorry to be such a disappointment,
but I knew what I was doing
and I could, once again, remember my name.
GloPoWriMo Day 15 - a monologue
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