What I am

What am I?
A bunch of straight lines
that make up some undefinable shape?

Sometimes I think I’m a star.
One of the brightest,
shining high in the sky.
But maybe I'm just a supernova,
And my light will come and go
before I get the chance to enjoy it.

Maybe I’m a diamond.
Only four lines
To make something so beautiful and coveted.
Worth so much, but used so little
For fear of losing it.

Too little-- for me

Maybe I’m a square.
So neat and precise.
…Maybe a too neat and precise
For someone like me.

So what am I then?
Not bright enough to be a star.
Not expensive enough to be a diamond.
Not neat enough to be square.

Could it be that I’m something different all together?
That all of my straight lines aren’t quite as straight as they seem-
Or that all of my dots haven’t been connected together quite yet?
Maybe I still have a few lines to find before I can discover
My Shape.
I need to keep creating,
And rearranging
Until I can change
What am I?
To
What I am.