I write these poems wistfully, sort of like you might write about returning to your childhood in a time machine. I know I can’t become a spider. And if I could I’m not sure I would opt for it because it would mean giving up on what I came here to do. That’s not even an option.

God, make me a spider.
I know it makes me weak.
But I am tired of being me.
Of being forced to speak.
Just make me a spider.
Don’t care if I live long.
I will not miss *waves hands*
THIS!
Everything’s gone wrong!