Half man , half shadow .
I had to hide away .
Better half that none but I learned how to pray .
I lived in shadowland and no one could see .
The person I was , not half ,
but all of me .
Out from the shadows I walked ,
Alone and free .
In a world I recaptured my dignity .
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From Brokenness to Wholeness, the Master Potter molds us His clay.
Your poem said it completely in these few lines, where truth had no shadows.
Cynthia
With Love,
Cindy