Sit back and watch it bleed
Drops splashing down like fire
The plain of your soul burning again

Close your eyes and let it feed
Gnashing bloody teeth caked with mire
Devouring your being, replacing your flesh with pain

Flowers grow petals that are black and red
Their healthy leaves a dripping rich blue
Visions of horror dancing in my head
I have forgotten what is true
Nature lost in this insanity
Cycles of the earth twisted into profanity

Burning, tearing
Each is sharing
Your heart as it sings
A mortician's lullaby

It rains thick hot drops of blood
Pouring down like a flood
Even the rain is tainted with pain
Even water exhibits this world's stain

Would that I were part of the pain
For then I could refrain
From listening to my soul's screams
Strung up and flayed
It's past time that I prayed
But this is part of my time
This is part of my rhyme
This is part of me

Black leaves once healthy upon the trees
Begin to turn lifeless, arid, and brown
Colors vibrant one last time, then fade into disease
The dying time of the earth, as life begins to frown
The smell of decay ripens upon the air
Sweet nectar to those who can't feel enough to care

So I embrace the pain
It doesn't stop the crying
I feel old wounds open again
Doesn't stop the dying

Snowflakes fall softly to the ground
Blackened with mire and ash
Even the snow's purity is nowhere to be found
What once was perceived as beauty is gone in a flash
Realization hits the mind with a sickening thud
Amongst this world so tainted with blood

Glass dust in my eyes
Makes them burn
My soul the devil's prize
And I yearn

Show me the Light again
I know the way
Raise me out of my sin
This is what I pray

But no matter the prayer and no matter the art
Little can anyone do to stem to bleeding of my heart

A rosebud blooming inside of me
My blood, its petals, opening where eyes cannot see
Each heartbeat laced with thorns that bite
Each moment filled with pain and spite
As the roots take hold in my heart
Clogging up my will as I start
To fall into the ground, the flower begins to bloom
My end it's beginning as it feasts upon my doom

While I may tire of this
In reality little seems amiss
It is part of my being
This is part of seeing
This is one of many of my faces
This is one of the many of the places
That I call home

This, the season of Despair