I was made for someone who didn't want me...
I was made by someone who didn't love me...
I was made for something that negated my purpose...
I was made by something that negated my integrity...
I was made for a world that would cheat me...
I was made by a world that would bleed me...

I scour the remains of these ruins to try and find non-existent treasures.
I dig through the tattered dilapidation to find a damnable salvation.
I search within these scattered corpses to find a breath of life.

What cosmic grace defines the essence of reason?
What divine order establishes the place where each fragment of the universe belongs?

Or is it just my own will that puts each piece into its place?

Through my own volition,
Through my own discretion,
Through my own selection,
Every particle,
Every shred,
Every piece of the puzzle of reality is set into its niche...
And the puzzle itself paints the picture I want it to.

Is this what its like to be a god?
Is this what its like to tempt fate?
Is this what its like to be a demon?

Then the purpose I have is only the one I've obtained...
Not the one given to me and set to be by the will of he who made me...
Not the one taken from me and defaced by the will of she who earned me...
Not the one that nullified itself by my own existence.

This world is mine to create/destroy...
This world is mine to live/waste in...
This world is mine... and is only as I am... as I will always be.