I am

I am a broken vase, mended together time and time again
by hands that are calloused from years of gently crafting
pottery from next to nothing.

I am a wave, right before it's crest and crash, looking for
my peak of life. I have seen the dark and cold waters; this
is my final attempt at an escape for something better.

I am an old ship, worn from years upon the seas. I've seen
great adventure, great loss. The water, choppy and then calm,
has left it's scars on the wood, a silent story of my life.

I am a library of an ancient city, I hold many secrets and
pages of smudged ink from old poets and historians. It
would take years to open every book I store; my thoughts.

I am nothing more than a speck of well-put together molecules
and stardust. I work as a slow time-bomb, nearing my end which
will come in a small, useless explosion that will send me back

to the stars from where I emerged.