Van Gogh, Sylvia Plath, Virginia Woolf
Three artists with one thing in common
They know what it is to be low, to be high
Their pain felt real, invisible to the naked eye
Does pain make you want to create art?
Does being an artist mean your pain overflows?
Into rivers of poetry and music and literature
So that people nod and smile with empty faces
When they read your words
And inhale your melodies
Doesn’t that just make you mad?
Pain makes artists create art
That’s what I think
We spend our time making metaphors out of love
We look down so much we don’t see what is above
But when we do look up
We see pain once more
If I wanted pain I would have just looked down
So I look down
Because that keeps me safe
And I lose faith
Once more
Once more I try
I try to look but it hurts
I’m tired of looking
And seeing too much
I’m done
Let me drown in what I see
Let me go
Let me
please
