I wanted to use my self expression
to explain a cage.
When I died in that well,
I was mired deep in a belief of
magic and I began to weave a spell
that would open when I was born
again. I would find each of the three
men. I would make them pay
their amends.
they warned me not to die
with anger. we believed
in witchcraft then.

they warned me
not to write the spell.

right before you die,
your entire life flashes before your
eyes but so does the next
one.
I drew the sigils like
a web knowing it would be
hard for me to find them.
it would require diligence and practice.
I knew that I would say the names wrong.
I knew I would be immured in something
entirely new.
I wouldn’t remember the names.
they promised me I wouldn’t
remember the names.

 

they promised me one thing:
I’d remember my name.
eventually.
I was thirteen years old.
I would spell the threads like this:

sarah, am I lying?
are you being haunted
by a ghost?
sarah, is it real?
say my name, sarah sarah.
say my name.
when you started the black
magic did you know
which girl would visit you
the most?
it’s only as real as in your head,
sarah sarah.
say my name sarah.
SARAH SAY MY NAME.

you are hunting blind my dear.

“13” or “arachne”

 

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