Juliet Poem
Stuti Aiyer
So woeful the tale of that young Capulet,
Her love died along with her, at her side,
Although it is not likely, she isn’t gone yet,
She follows and creeps and hides.
Love is her specialty, taking young lives,
If hers didn’t why should their love survive?
A shadow that traipses across barren fields,
The power of her death is a weapon she wields.
A crazed, ragged figure, she will appear,
Appear over there, and over here,
To take others love is her bet,
That young, vengeful woman, Juliet.