Looking up to Shakespeare's tragedies

And stories of the same

Of the tales that end in despair

My own life was jealous

That it could not

Die as famous

As those in the stories

Deaths that are meant for something

And change the course of history

Unfortunately I learned

That this could not be a reality

As the apples fell from trees

And rotted on the ground

A book lay circled

In freshly killed leaves

My name was scrawled upon

the leather-bound cover

These pages would never see

Human eyes

Again

Kind of a weird one and confusing but I kinda like the ending so.... here it is