A slight roll.

Heads on shoulders:

pebbles atop broken

rocks,

half-carved into

torsos, arms, necks.

They roll down the ravine.

Suicide, you would think.

It’s not.

Instead – life.

A chip here,

a dent there.

They reach the bottom

battered.

Some unrecognizable.

They reach the bottom.

No longer caring

to go back to the top.

 

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Author: dragonink90

I'm a writer of MG and YA fiction, and also a poet. The first book in my Half-Wizard Thordric series, Unofficial Detective, will be released by Creativia in the near future. Oh, I binge watch Booktube videos, too.

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