Grasping The Remains Of A Dream

I can't think of any description of this poem, it is just plain weird.

A breeze blows across the lonely field,
Sweeping up ashes and burnt grass remains.
Once children used to play here:
Now, nothing but desolate souls in agony.
The sky shall remain gray,
Only a tree remaining:
Standing alone, leafless and barkless…
A dream I once had.

No life, just the vultures tearing at the dead.
I don’t want to live; I don’t want to die.
Hell is worse, but this is hell.
I seek answers in a world unknown,
And watch the last spark simmer into nothingness.
Where is hope?  Where is light?
The reality of gray surrounds me,
As the dream comes to an end.