Dear Me,

Once, in shadows deep, I wandered lost,
A soul adrift, not knowing the cost.
Low in spirits, hope a distant star,
Life a puzzle, each piece a scar.

Time, the silent sculptor, passed me by,
Turning moments into wings to fly.
Slowly, surely, change began to bloom,
A garden of light dispelling gloom.

Now I stand, a testament to grace,
With strength and joy etched on my face.
The old me, in a mirror, might see,
A proud...