I was born into nothing, and that is how I was raised,
Having only questions and thoughts occupy me, consistently confused and dazed.
Many years I was a prisoner of existentialism, never knowing my place, my use
I had nobody there for me, I was all alone to add to the mental abuse.
It was not until that fateful day, in which I was given reason,
What was spoken to me then, It made me see the light as if each syllable was a beacon.
For you see, people are born for a reason, that's what I think.
Some are destined to live my formerly secluded life, and some chains are meant to be linked.
In my eyes, people have something they are meant to do with their lives,
And I am no different. What I'm meant to do is assist, battle, and survive.
Now, I have others with me, ones that I am to risk my life for.
That is what I am supposed to do, I can feel it in my core.
People need me now, that is what will keep my body moving, and fighting,
That, and the obvious, of course, I must ensure we survive anything fate may be inviting.
My loneliness is subsiding, and my destiny has been realized.
I am meant to kill for and die for my comrades until the end is what I've surmised.
Life has been given meaning, I have seen this world's truth.
In order to give my existence reason, I will fight, nail and tooth.
I finally see what I must do, it will be done, for I cannot be worthless.
To serve, to fight, to survive, and then to die, that is my Purpose.