In a world without color, no purpose, nor any meaning
Preference never mattered, I suffer from indistinct pangs
Of faith lost in the haze of a composite gray, screaming
The world consumes, devours the weak, bearing fangs
If I exist without a reason but still exist, is life real?
If I die when dreaming, is this worthwhile, is it surreal
The world will burn, as all efforts go without reward
Our suffering forever goes unnoticed and silenced
Our sacrificed life an offering, unaccepted, scorned
A gift that comes without thanks, unadored
