[Poem] "Song for a Final Girl"
A poem for both final girls and slasher victims alike.
Song for a Final Girl. You never know when it’s maybe the last time you can pull back. You grew up a pomegranate burst, explosion, seeds splattered, solely splashing, slashing. I am a slasher victim, not the final girl, not the survivor; I am spilled right beside her. Anyways, here is a list of creative ways to get exhausted: - Peeling pomegranates, twice. - Running your finger along the seams where your dreams and your life meet. - Denying your love, pretending to be a bird that does not hide its colours but taking the whiteout to your writing. - Starting poems you’ll never finish. - Inhaling breaths you won’t exhale until you do, you do, you do. (For the last time; you do and you will.) You are only tired because you refuse the energy you are given. The killer is indefinitely off-screen and as a child you used to think “If I can’t see them, they can’t see me” Though somewhere along the way that philosophy finally failed you, didn’t it?
Sabrina Angelina is dedicated to the intersection of love and violence, a term she coined to describe classical Romanticism's tendency to pair passion and suffering, tragedy and pleasure, together. Consumed by this concept, she writes on Substack and curates a White Lily Society Instagram page dedicated to arts and culture. In September 2020, she released her debut poetry collection “a Cult of Butterflies”- a pandemic project about longing, nostalgia, and her teenage self’s very first steps in poetry.
White Lily Society links // Sabrina Angelina links
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