Vaughan's poem opens by echoing Hamlet's famous question, but quickly turns it into something more everyday. The speaker lines up pairs of opposites: living or dying, believing or questioning, loving or hating. The point isn't which side to choose. What matters is why. The speaker insists that a choice should be made "because it makes sense," not because we feel we have to.
The tone is restless and a little impatient. Short, stripped-down lines make the poem feel like someone thinking out loud, and the repeated "just" in "just being / just existing / just living then dying" sounds almost dismissive, as if mere survival isn't enough. The speaker seems frustrated by "mindless indecision" and by drifting through life on autopilot. By the end, even love and hate count as wasted if they come from habit or pressure. The mood is questioning and urgent, with a quiet challenge to the reader: are your choices really your own?