The Twilight Artist

Gazing upon the night
A lunatic in the asylum
The view outside the window
And the noise of the midnight silence

Behind the moonlit canvas
Is the man of the misunderstood
Watching the twilight stars
Under the Monastery hood

The man of ginger
The artist with one channel
Makes brushstrokes of paint
On the virgin white panel

The insanity rings in his remaining ear
But the brush takes it away
He smiles at the bright city
As the gently trees sway

Fame never was his priority
For he only wanted peace
The revolver lays on the bed to his right
The depression will soon cease

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