BlackSandDragon

It rears its head like a dragon made of nothingness. An incarnation of
emptiness. It is the abyss given form.
Sometimes you push it down firmly with a steady hand, remembering all
that you've done- all your triumphs, all your struggles, all that
you've learned.
Sometimes, it seeps through your fingers and you see that its not the
dragon rising up, but yourself sinking into it like black quicksand
and the more you struggle, the more you sink.
Where is your elation now? Where is you buoyancy, who weilds your
branch?
These questions are most poignant against a backdrop of self doubt.