Incoherence

Love is like a Sandstorm,
It blows hard, makes you blind,
Buries you six feet under
'Tis the Tomb of Sand.
And if ever you arise
When the storm is over;
What then flows through your veins,
Is not blood, 'tis the Bloody Sand.
* * *
If thee cannot weep,
If thy sorrow is so much deep,
Thou must bleed;
For grief shall not be bound.
* * *
All my life I've lived by a code,
The code is simple;
Then pray, tell me, oh why today!
Everything I held dear,
Do I wish to gamble.
Madness! What Magic is this!
* * *
Acrid smoke and tongues of flame
They scorch your very form,
You try to put it out with the Darkness inside,
You find only light; all in vain,
The fire burns.
And then you become desperate
You try to hide it beneath your coat
The glow fades for a moment,
And then bursts forth with all its might
Burning your coat, your chest;
The fire is dead but your passion still burns.