Found this again. Wrote it AGES ago, and I'd forgotten what was exactly the reason for it, but I've just been going back through stuff, and currently it's my favourite thing I've ever written. I think it was when we were studying sonnets in my first year, but I can't remember beyond that. Not sure it's really any good, but I'm actually quite pleased with it.
I have written myself into the sand
Of a thousand thousand uncaring souls;
But always it seems sea eternal rolls,
Smoothing the ground on which I try to stand,
Till I might find no purchase to hold hand
Or heart outstretching, and make some bell toll -
Which might alert you to the starving role
That here I play, but may not here extend.
So now I return to the drugging sea
To better con my part for future tries;
And here, alone, play out what might have been,
Had you chosen to hold me in your eyes.
Yet I treasure still the sand still in my pen -
Which you do not miss, though will not see again.
Twelve Days of Boots: Day 8 by The Pioneer Woman
10 hours ago