The beauty of It

The corrosion and the rust,
Which I stare upon with lust,
All's around me have distorted,
Remains me to be contorted.
For I wake up in the morning,
Organs twisting and blood churning,
I have but a longing feeling
And a need to end my being.
As I step out through the door
I find what I was longing for;
Darkened cloak, corroded bones,
Please do so to all my own's,
And I'll show You only peace
If of Your rust You give me lease.