A Grain of Sand

A grain of sand is small

Sitting in the palm of my hand

Nearly blending in with my skin.

You told me to take life

In a grain of sand

And I have

But I don't know what to do

With it

I appear so much grander than

This tiny piece of earth

But I know its price

And I know mine.

You told me to listen to my heart

And you don't know,

But we haven't been talking

For a while now.

So I suppose I remain lost,

But I'll stay,

Sifting this light in my fingers

Until I understand

What you meant when

You said, "Cheer up, kid."

Pounding Beat

I turned it up louder as if that could make the thoughts go away. They had to disappear if I was going to keep my mouth shut. Maybe I just liked the pounding beat in my ears that seemed to change the very rhythm of my heart. Control. It's what I had been working on for a good two and a half months. I remembered moments ago clutching the chair arm, letting my nails dig into it. Then the slight relief as I prevailed, withholding my thoughts and justice and the disappointment in there having been no change. If there was anything I wanted more than a peace of mind about how he and I felt it would have been for him* to have an open mind and listen. Not see me as a nearly seventeen-year old girl, but as someone who truly understood how people truly should be and were, with the right observance. Either that or the elimination of the problem. The last seems more likely other than the elimination of my presence since I know that the fire will not be removed from his eyes, the wind in his ears to hear any if at all my voice.

Pondering

I'll come up with meaning of things or inquiries as just simple sentences. This list will grow as time goes on.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The voice is the human's most powerful weapon. Now what does someone do when even that can't save them?

What else is there to live for, but the hope that the next day will have something more than the day before?

Sanctuary: The place you run to, not from.

Anger is only the mask of sadness.

A hero is the one that pulls you from the dark, especially if you're the one who turned out the light.

Love cannot be seen or felt in a touch longer than a moment and only rarely is it purely spoken in words. It is a feeling, a force, that survives the hurricanes and the fires and it lasts even after death stronger than ever.

It's that moment when you find yourselves breathing the same air...