Feet twist in the wrong direction.
Bones popping with every step.
Oily tendrils stab into shoulders.
Dragging backwards
Thrown to the side.

Still I stand
Stumble
Still I crawl

Sharp shards of fire splinter,
Embed themselves into slow beating chambers.
Cold particles of frost blacken fingertips, toes.
Arms, and legs, falling like dead trees.
Weight scrapping across gravel.

Still I crawl
collapse
Still I rise

One thought

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