Simile

I was reading Tristine Rainer's The New Diary, and I worked on one of the journal starter suggestions -- to write a simile about yourself, about my now. And this is what I came up with.

I am old clay
Slowly losing its malleability
Yet still unformed
Colors all mixed up to a murky gray
Misshapen mass of past mistakes and do-agains
Mashed by many hands
Bits and pieces lost forever
Still there but not quite
Still workable but not for long