Grudge

Why did you make me the sheath and not the sword?
Why did you make me the soil and not the seed?
Why did you make me the CANVAS and not the ART?
Why did you make it my purpose to come APART?
Why is it that I go from wound to scar?
Why may I only watch from afar?
Why am I regarded an empty jar
Useless, until filled and bought?
Only regarded for what I am not
Regardless of what I want
I am pan, I am pot, I am not key, but its lock
I am man but not a man
I am where it all began
I am but a part of a plan
I am lesser than

Made me a slab of rock
To sharpen tools of war

What if I wanted to be a star?