The opposite side of the picture

Vast wounds incapable of healing,
Scent of blood and the heat of revulsion,
An endless symphony of screams,
In unison they give blood-curdled cries,
Streaks of silver lining shade the border of the sky,
Bleeding into the inside.

Am I alive or dead,
Oncoming storm of our sins,
And screams resounding,
With the roar of thunder.

And the sanctified spirits,
Broken and in flames.

The deep violet purple of an aura of a nightmare,
Shimmering like the light of a thousand jewels,
Look to the sky for guidance,
But it's not in our stars,
And a power so volatile,
That it could manifest human fears,
Long after the original cause has faded from memory,
EVEN NOW I BLEED!