Starry Night

Starry, Starry Night
you built your world,
just born yet wrecked;
Shades of blue and grey,
the cypress tree
made you question your sanity.

How you saw the world
like no one else could see;
A view from your window
not how it was,
but how could it be.

How there were nights when you skipped meals,
and isolation made you miserable;
You lost yourself in art,
and the townsfolk called you mad

How valorous was your brush,
who painted till your last breath;
Sinful strokes subdued your voice
no one could do justice to it
even after your death

How many did not know how sad you were,
the yellow strokes on your art
were fueled by meds;
How you tried to set your demons free,
was greeted by darkness instead

How you did not drink for pleasure,
but drink to dream;
To paint your canvas
as the most beautiful gift, you have ever seen

How many may pity you,
since you embraced death with open arms;
Your hands on the trigger
and a wound on your chest,
“a simple bout of craziness” as you said

Starry, Starry Night
two nights later you died,
smoking pipe in your bed,
“The sadness will last forever “, you said;
What a relief that death arrived,
it was finally your starry night.

—Written by Alankriti Singh for MTTN

—Featured image by Bhavna Choudhury

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