cursed and plagued and ...
whispered on the candy stained lips of ******* children,
just hoping that something bad will happen
i was one of them, testing the limits and toeing the line and waiting,
baited breath and excited eyes, for the "break a leg" to become more than just a saying for good luck
and maybe i pushed the envelope a little too far,
maybe the bard punished not the production but the girl with wild hair and a wilder grin, sending her the karma meant for lady mac herself
maybe i am that cruel woman
or maybe i am her fairer husband, because the weird sisters that predict my downfall are named Anxiety, Alcoholism, and Anger
i wish i had been superstitious as a child
(forwarding the chain emails and reblogging or ten years of bad luck didn't drive me to the cliff's edge)
because maybe i would be safe now
i keep reading the scottish play and wishing desperately i hadn't whispered his name into empty rows of theaters back when i thought superstitions were for sissies
