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.