Like Orion, I stand upon stars submerged in darkness.
The dark - the fuel in which stars thrive.
Oh! the perils of my mind
fly tauntingly like summer’s moth
and make a shrill white noise in the dark.
A noise so piercing and blinding,
it drowns out the light of my stars.
Although withered to oblivion,
I cry my brown eyes red.
I scream my calls into whispers.
My stars - my mind has left my control, I know there is nothing I can do.
Except I can not, accept I can not.
Numb, I fall down to earth.
Slow and still, my body floats
without the force in my mind
to repel me from confinement.
My stubborn heart begins to burn,
refusing life amongst the mindless.
The thick dark blood seeps into the
empty blue canvas below me.
Everyone in awe of the beautiful sunset.
As an artist, I chose to exist,
expelling the abstract with lucidity.
As an artist, I chose to die.
My misery - a glorious masterpiece to the ignorant.

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