The empty circle spins around,
In its quiet, I am found. π
In and out, it pulls and flows,
A rebirth from the pain it shows. πΏ
The day after my birth, I mourn,
For that was the day my heart was torn. π
Losing my mother, I was left unwhole,
Grief, the thief, who stole my soul. π
It stole my art, my heart, my tart,
Left a bitter taste and torn apart. π°
But circles turn, they never end,
Each thread I weave begins to mend. π§΅
Though my heart still bears the ache,
I fill the holes with love I make. π
From pain, rebirthβa soul reclaims,
The stolen pieces and my name. πΈ
Β©οΈAngela Maull HC AADP, EC