Othello Poem by angelica dela cruz
Othello
Rating: ★4.5
His hands were cold
When he placed them
On her neck
In solemn death grip.
She sighed her sighs.
Had cried her tears.
He was possessed.
Anger,
Coursing through every vein
Of him.
And yet she could not break
Her love for him
And let herself
Die.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
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5/5/2024 6:38:03 PM # 1.0.0.1119
