Burning Scars

I can not paint, the saint to colors - In the skies of the butterflies - I am lost in a field, i am standing in corn - I feed my blood to the spoils on the battleground - I am dead to the still born - I see silver in the moon, i am black to her back - I lookout of my window, i am in lifes prison without bars - My arms are bound, my wrists are bleeding - Although my wounds are healed, i am burning with scars - My world on fire in the tornado of rain - My turmoil of thunder is the depth of my pain