The man who made it, didn’t want it. The man who bought it, didn’t need it. The man who used it, didn’t know it. What is it?

Time's arrow am I, Always to make things die. Never to make whole, to spread is my role. Never am I less, All in all, I am the mess.

Whatever isn't beneath us. Is that not the answer? No? Then what was the question?

My mother had little negativity; my father, a lot. They had individual toxicity, but together, did not. They taught me the right and wrong way to be, but little is more brittle than me. What am I?

I can be a circle or half circle, clear or not, I will help you achieve an inclination, all from a dot.