She rolled, and rolled, and rolled
Because feet were too tired, knees too sore,
Arms gave up. Somewhere on her face a second mouth opened up
and sighed, "No more."
So, she rolled.
Supine
Here and there something dug
into muscles that held together her back and
if she was lucky that something
was just a rock
and didn't go "crunch."
Prone
Fatty pieces of torso pressed against dirt
friction
stretch
squish.
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Thankfully, it's all downhill from here
even if that down is sheer
and that hill is a cliff.
About the Creator
Rebekah Conard
34, She/Her, a big bi nerd
Rebekah Conard is a writer of short stories, flash fiction, and occasionally, poetry. Her preferred genre is horror, though sometimes she can’t help but write something cozy and real. She has a cat named Lily. <3
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