Old water bottle

Rugged overused bottom
Now unable to stand
Satisfied lying horizontal
Water still left on insides

Ready to quench anyone
Who holds onto its familiar body,
Now
Marked by faded pictures
And a half visible sign

Yellow reflecting rays, now
Turned dull tired pale
Still complements little round
Full of dents silver head

Loses weight when someone’s filled
And gains ready to fill again,
With more and more sips
Grows it’s serving strife
Until insides crack
Unable to hold life.

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I tried to write a imagist poem for the first time. Imagism was a movement in early-20th-century Anglo-American poetry that favored precision of imagery and clear, sharp language. So I did it with a still life. Any suggestions or feedback are most welcome and appreciated!!