it's strange.
it's very strange how sand becomes glass.
something we rely on to hold us up, something our feet sink into,
turns to something fragile and breakable.
but i guess it makes sense.
something that's always stepped on is meant to shatter eventually.
YOU ARE READING
restless: a poetry collection
Poetrythe thing about waiting for the rain to stop is that you don't know that it will. you could wait and wait and it could just rain and rain. sometimes, if you wait long enough, the rain will stop and the sun will shine. but sometimes the drizzle turns...
