This is...

This is  my home,
seeing red and black where ever I may roam.
The clouds and ground all black,
the red skies bring the color that most people lack.
This is where this bird flies,
from the excuses and lies.
My heaven and my retribution,
which will one day be my execution.
This is my happy place,
where I can take the mask off and feel the cold air on my face.
Then it will soon defrost,
and all will be lost.
This is where I lay,
wondering if life will come back to me some day.
Alone with this bird that never sings,
in a world where the end isn't justified by the means.
This is my dream,
in a place where most deem.
But i've woken out of breath,
scared to death.