In the tapestry of self, threads weave and twine,
Crafting a story, unique and so fine,
Each thread a memory, tangled and enmeshed,
Binding the essence of who we’ve confessed.
But sometimes the threads start to unravel and fray,
Leaving behind gaps where the colors decay,
The once vibrant picture, now stained and unwhole,
A reflection of pieces lost to the soul.
We try to mend the tapestry, to stitch and to mend,
But some threads are lost, impossible to bend,
And so we embrace the tatters, the flaws and the tears,
For they tell the story of our deepest fears.
Through the unraveling, we find a new grace,
Accepting the imperfections that time cannot erase,
For in the brokenness, there’s an unexpected beauty,
An intricate masterpiece, a testament to our journey.