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What is this life for If I who sit on this heavenly choir Cannot sing a song; If I whose brother composes Ballads of love and war Struggle with language's subtle Nuances.
How to heaven cries for you, that these were merit and sound apart, from me in a better form for loser life in shares, to hallow in a war for where was me to knowing who was gone, from these in a human battleing, that there was more to ark in me a
I stopped looking for monsters under the bedWhen I came to see they lived in my headWhoever tells of a monster that hidesNever had one to abide besideOh, full of scorpions is my mind
Witches push Macbeth Leading to king duncan's death Ambition guided his hand He became the king of the land Evil grasped the king
Almighty father above please forgive me, My wife wants me to do a deed that my heart refuses, My mind is waging a war that has no winner,
Spirit will ……never vanish. The darkest hour…upon the isle's stage. No, I simply cannot let it be so for me ever. On a desolate isle, I refuse to back down. Standing before the Lord of Flies.
Everyone wants a story with a happy ending, A sweet end with music and flowers and true love, Where the guy gets the girl, Good triumphs over evil, And everyone’s problems are solved.
Three witches gathered round a pot, the first witch said "today let's make something new I'm sick of all this baby finger gluck and newt tail glue and I know just what we wierd sisters should do.
Do I dare call upon what may be fair? That I am only a constructive fraud. The smell of blood lingers in the night air, And I am left by love and lost to God. This I that may take blame for Banquo's death,
Macbeth seemed like a noble fellow, He fought hard and seemed mellow. The witches’ prophecies brought out a different side, One filled with paranoia and fake pride. His first murder started his quench for blood,
Act 5. sc 5 Scene 5 Enter Lady Macbeth with a taper. LADY MACBETH
Round about the cauldron we go As words, spells and incantations flow Head my chant and quake, O legions of schools
Drip, Drip, Drip. From the wounds of the dead, The nectar from such lifeless fruit, The liquid that all men fear to see, Covering their guilty hands.
Fair is foul and foul is fair Lies, betrayal, hatred, and blood Loom freely in the air. Dearest hero turned foe Believe the literal truth and fell to an all time low His lady acted not as his conscience