Sand

Joined March 2019

0 stories

Bio

I used to feel like i could show people what I overcame. I’m older now and broken down I guess I’m really just calling out without expectations these days it’s smoothing still being able to hear myself.

Stories (6/0)

Burnt Out
My anger once moved me and consumed me my pain was it's route. But like all flames I had a chance to burn then die out. Instead I let the breeze push me towards my goals and instead of cooling down the surrounding stress and people’s opinions caused an eruption
By Sand 5 years ago in Poets
Tide Pool
It's all become cold and dark. I've done anything to feel and now all I wish to feel is numb. Sparks of everything are now flames in my mind.
By Sand 5 years ago in Poets
Numb
Its a feeling empty void of sight sound meaning A feeling without confines A feeling of floating aimlessly Its painless Its not warm nor cold
By Sand 5 years ago in Poets
Lighthouse
A part of the process is understanding pain It’s finding yourself amidst the loss Retract your questions Enlarge your living
By Sand 5 years ago in Poets
The Flask, Mask, and Frame
She had this beautiful glass frame Looked through it every day Felt its imperfections they were perfect to her Intriguing one of a kind
By Sand 5 years ago in Poets
Broken Glass Bottles
Personally I'm always looking for people to latch on to but I'm so afraid of being alone that I'm too cowardly to move forward. I find myself in still waters often yet the ripples I choose to make always turn into tidal waves attracting shards from broken glass bottles. In gaining garbage do I become a dump or do I make sculptures from these pieces? Do I build or do I destroy? I'm looking for myself and in this trip I pass through others as if to collect parts to other puzzles. I'm too afraid to create my own. Moving up and forward or am I walking up a downward escalator? When does self inflicting become self love? When does the tension between me and myself clear? When do I feel safe and strong enough with me to no longer lean on others? When do the airs of toxicity become perfumes of sweet comforting scents? When do I realize that being lost is really just the same as finding something familiar, Getting used to the new things just like hiding from old ones? I feel pain often but it's always pain from myself. Do I hate myself or is this just tough love? Is it that dark or am I just keeping my eyes closed? When I answer these questions I could find myself but I might not. I won't know till I try but I'm still in still water waist deep, moving forward with a blindfold on in a sea of broken glass.
By Sand 5 years ago in Poets

Sand

Bio

Stories .css-19zxm0z-Text{display:inline-block;color:var(--text-default-mute);}(6/0)

Burnt Out

Tide Pool

Numb

Lighthouse

The Flask, Mask, and Frame

Broken Glass Bottles

Stories (6/0)