Who are you to me?
Are you God or Diseased?
Help me kill this fantasy,
I'm stuck living in.

My eye's burned,
but I make believe.
My ears died but,
I hear the breeze.
My veins are dry, but, my heart, still, beats,
tell me what am I?

Am I memory or fiction?
Machine or flesh?
Is there a purpose beyond surviving,
is there reason before creation?