Mold me


Like clay that can be recycled,
Then formed into something new.
This clay, like a rebirth, now loved,
This new reinvention shows the new you.
Like in the potter’s hands, he molds a beautiful shape,
One that once was just a lump of clay.
The potter’s hands can make this art anew, escape—
Like helping shape someone’s life one day.
We are like clay, being worked and formed.
This process is like the improvement of oneself.
Unlike the piece that once was unformed,
Now becomes something beautiful to display on a shelf.