Granite City

Note: this is my first free-verse poem attempt so any and all criticism is welcome.

I live in a world of grey,
Enclosed on all sides by walls of grey;
Walls of granite; walls of gore -
There is something gory about that:

Earth's bone and soft tissue
Raked to the surface and torn away
By the gluttonous hands of her sons;
Flesh stacked upon flesh until:

Walls, towers; a necropolis of gore;
Ghastly protrusions of red,
Though, not red:
Grey.

The colour leeched away
To leave empty matter, rank and rotten -
Raw mince in an open fridge, but still cold; always cold -
Colour washed away by tears from the grey sky;

The mother's melancholy tears
Fall and wash away -
As iodine on an open wound.
Only, she's too dead to feel the sting.

Worms infest this wound, worms with arms and legs.
Born of the stone cold matter and congealed red;
Rise from the run-off that comingles
With the grime of this wound

And turns brown and foul like shit.
Shit brown, streaked with red; sanguine; sanguine people.
I am one of these sanguine persons,
Or rather, a shade of sanguine, more transparent;

A ghost amidst the granite by the sea:
The granite sea. For it, like me,
Reflects the dismal colourings of its shore.
It has to, but not I:

I shall cast myself adrift
For a glimpse of some far off, other shore -
Some other colour -
Else drown in a sea of grey.

Feedback:
https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/5vvxez/untitledmy_second_sonnet/
https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/5w9v93/as_i_cross_this_desert_sea/