Reminiscences on Shakespeare’s Hamlet

I’m sorry I have to kill you because you are, first, my father’s brother. My arm rebels against the trepidations of the mind, retracting me into a scary world of thought. Killing is not befitting my essential nature; yet, my father’s ghost proclaims that you orchestrated his murder. Still, must I kill you – surely the just outcome, or myself - walking into death? Oh! Uncle Claudius, the very world seems like an ocean of misfortune; but, must I suffer its existence or rise up against it? Alas, the sword grows heavier, impelling me to thought further.