Fingerprints

I've built with sand. I've made a life without a proper plan, and you kicked before I hardened it. How do I supply demand? A ship unmanned. This is the moment that I sank within. It's when my life became your operand. Your addition for a firing pin. I caught my hand. It was inching towards a perfect plan, and everything I touched became broken, for it wasn't my command. You've played harvest, in which my heart became the olive pit, your unwanted seed, without great promise, a flaw in the shell that houses it. All of my emptiness, began to cauterize my synapses, while making room with lack of militance, a jail for dreams in piled ashes. But I exist. It bled my soul out but I've made your list, and I'm the victim of your ignorance, the example for a catalyst. I'm not to guess. I've taken strides to curb incompetence, and with this fire, I can't stop to test, my life for all your fingerprints.