Thy Art is Murder (The Pinecone)

Got praised by my lecturer, class mates and house mates for this poem I wrote, so I thought i'd share it, it was written about a pinecone ?

Thy art is murder 
For I bring death
Thy dress beholds a beauty
That tells no life is left
Thy impenetrable exterior
Reflects that which lies within
Thy oaky scent all but reminds
The Earth of my filthy sin
Thy heart is vacant
I live without a soul
Thy age is redundant
I am neither young nor old
Thy art is murder
My coldness shall eclipse the sun
Thy art is murder
And I have already won