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I die in the end
February 24, 2019
Isn't it funny how we marvel at the pain of others
The way Edgar Allan Poe
Splattered his sorrow across lines like a mad painter
He walked around drunk
Heartbroken
And we call it art
How beautiful and heartbreaking
That even the darkest of minds become legends
It scares me, because like Van Gogh
I too know the pain will last forever
I ramanticize the yellow paint
And find pieces of myself in the broken artist
Maybe one day my pain will be considered beautiful
Or maybe it will just sit inside of me
Until the day I die
© Ellen K., Baldwin Park, CA
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