Pumping blood to my veins
Colorful life, colorless mine
Death is only a thin line
This world is already a complication
A work of imperfect imagination

I do not even know if it is for vain
Blood streaming, dripping, filling
Are you living?
Or just merely existing?

Falling deep when hurting
Why do you have to be the most sensitive part of this feeling
Cannot rise from this aching
But you are the reason why I am breathing
Telling me when I am dying

This heart is an abstract
An absurd tract
Are you God-made or a scientific fact
But both are just ideas that man created
Did I ask to be created?

All the while faith and knowledge are only what keeping me alive
But I do not want to be naive
Of what is behind reality
Or if this is just another fantasy

What is the meaning of life?
When all I am doing is running away from the knife
What is your true purpose?
You cannot answer that consistently, I suppose
Did you exist to just fill my emptiness
To keep me intact?
Even though what you gave me is sadness; now emotionless
What to achieve
When I do not know why I live