Do shells turn into sand?
Shaped & shifted
by the vast expanse of
the ever moving sea.
Monotonous,
lonesome:
the unending stretch of coastline.
Interminable flat grey line
merging mistily with the sky.
A rolling behemoth,
a naughty child
refusing to remain
still, quiet, unmoving.
The relentless,
nauseating motion
goes on.
If the sea was my end,
would I still exist like
shells become sand?