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Y'know, I really hope I can pull off the cool mysterious deep writer persona. That'd be sick.

Message to Readers

This is a poem about my favorite artist, and one of the most misunderstood people from the 1800's. Vincent Van Gogh.

The Broken Man

April 10, 2017


Nothing but colors swirled through his heart.
Everything else was taken from him.
He was hated, 
He was all alone.
People bruised him till he was broken.
The man was left to go mad all on his own.
He painted his sorrows on a canvas,
so pretty,
and marvelous,
just like his soul.
No one loved him, or his art.
He was cast out for being different.
He dared to be himself and was reject.
Nights spent alone, crying.
Wishing he was dead.
Born in the wrong era, many say. 
One tragedy after another.
His soul so broken.
His heart in so much pain.
His art, so, so, forgotten.
Unable to withstand it any longer,
he took his own life.
Without knowing, that he was so loved.
By his family, and many other people, years later.
He was a broken man.
Not in the beginning,
but from years,
and years,
and years,
of the same abuse. 
His beauty was darkened by the hate.
He felt forgotten,
but some people just can't forget.
Some people just won't forget. 
Don't forget the broken man.
Don't forget. 


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  • April 10, 2017 - 4:23pm (Now Viewing)

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