A Dash of the Poet In Me!

Turmoil arises, the soul squirms;
Tossed inwardly by a veiled winter gale.
Flowers fail to bud when scorched,
Scorched by the sun within a dark sky.
Nakedness clings like a coat of fur;
Barrenness baring fruit like spring harvest.
Lock the door opening into the grey room,
Cobwebs suspended, amidst the dust.
Eyes open only to discover blindness;
A raging battle fought by unnamed enemies.
The smog of past fires choking breath,
A deadness within more alive than death!