Specs of salt and specs of sand and specs of me rush around as I'm refined.
How odd and painful it is to use such a rough movement to make something so smooth.
I fell from my grace, perhaps never did I attain it.
I was left in ruin, abandoned as I feared and predicted.
I'm scared.
I'm new.
This must be true. Because I'm lost in You.
Apologetic, to all who have been toys in my grasp.
As I gripped and ripped you apart with a being which didn't belong to you.
I'm a mess.
But I'm tidying up.
Time to grow up...
