Black
is my soul,
a twisted wreck 
of mangled insanity.
Crimson
is the blood,
escaping from cuts
of freshly severed skin.
Clear
are the tears,
welling and falling,
pooling on the ground.
Brown
are my eyes
that cannot close
for fear of murder.
White
is for the caring
who try to help
but are pushed away.
Grey
is for my death,
mourned and forgotten,
nailed and buried
loved but lost.