This is a poem about a man looking back at his life, questioning whether it was all pre-determined... As for the change in style towards the middle, he enters an inner-monologue in an attempt to understand how people can use fate as an excuse for how their own actions have played out. In the end he decides that, it's better to not believe in fate if you can live your life fully that way. People may accuse him of being evil, for whatever reason, but they didn't understand it was all an attempt to open his eyes to what is behind his life.
He carves with everything, simply to prove that it is himself that is carving and not the souless embodiment of an android that did only as it was meant to do.
