My World Is On Fire

I cannot paint my soul to form a portrait. I am no saint. Not to one color and not to a brush. I stare hopeless into the above. Can this universe be my curse. In the clear blue skies. Where the angels die with the butterflies. I bleed. Through my sinful eyes. I am lost. Will I be found. Before the nick and before my time. I am standing on the land of Corn. Where Death stagers and where Decay was reborn. I feed my blood to the spoils on the battleground. I am dead to the unborn. Darkness surrounds my damaged soul. Turmoil thunders inside the depths of my mind. I see silver in the moon, but I am feeling grey. I am white, but I am black to her back. I look out of my window. Fires are burning the land into ash. I do not see one tree. My arms are bound. My wrists are bleeding. I am cut, but not by the cross. I am nailed, into my coffin. Although my wounds are healing. I am burning with scars. My world is on fire in the tornado of rain. My turmoil of thunder is the depth of my pain.