It’s not Shakespeare, but it’s not not Shakespeare.

In Hamilton Hall, 10:10 the time be.

The cruel fate that haunts my waking hour

Appears alive on either side of me.

My neighbors’ handwriting leaves me sour.

Their pens must have been blessed by the heavens.

I have been cursed to play the role of fool.

My outlook can in no way be leavened

When their notes look like a jewel and mine, drool.

‘Tis not a fair assessment of my love

For Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night, Hamlet, Othello.

Their notes read as gentle as a young dove

And I’m nothing but a tragic fellow.

My sole fault: illegible handwriting,

Their strength should damn well extend to fighting.

Shakespeare my bestie via Wikimedia Commons