I Bleed Rainbows
“Great art comes from great pain” — Christopher Zara, Tortured Artists
Would art be the same
Without tragedy?
Would we be so enamored
By the rosy pinks
Without the deep blues
And sullen greys
What is a pianist to do
With so few notes to play
Does the song not sound
Entirely off-key
Without the lower octaves
I should think
A soprano needs its bass
And is it absurd
That I cannot look
At the starry night
Without wondering
Who else is wishing
Upon the same star
I mean isn’t a wishing pond beautiful
Because you can almost hear the
Desperate pleas and
Unanswered dreams
Maybe the small space
Between hope
And devastation
Is where beauty lives
I knew a sick woman once and
I swear she was puking
Butterflies
Maybe if you slit my throat
I will only bleed
Rainbows
Perhaps pain is my paintbrush
And grief, my canvas
And poetry,
The aftermath
Of it all
