This is my poem for the contest.

Fool’s Gold.
As I melt away,
Fragments pouring out.
In crystal shards or tears,
A clear substance.
So irregular in shape.
Am I pulled apart, or was I never whole?
Built up through pieces of pieces,
Glued together to represent some semblance of a being.
Would it even be Kintsugi?
The wasted gold, even that will melt.
I am the finest particle;
Smallest in my existence.
Mold me into anything,
Melt the glass and give it shape.
Breathe life into me, and I will be.
I will venture forth.
But the stronger the gust and I will shatter.
And who will hold me then?
Am I bound to the same fate yet again?
The tacky, sticky liquid that forces my arm to my leg.
My limbs are wrong.
I don’t look like this, or at least I didn’t.
What did I look like?
I don’t remember.