Misunderstood by the people,
You felt suffocated,
They never knew your heart was levitated.
You didn’t relate with this world,
And felt alienated.
You had such a gift,
You even tried to share it,
But they never really related.
Your art was pure,
That art was your madness,
And they couldn’t break it.
Consumed by sadness,
Your mind gave up,
How sad was it,
That you never made it.
I look up at this starry night,
And envision your version of it.
How beautiful it would’ve been,
If everyone had a soul like yours,
A little mad,
A little broken,
But filled with love and art.
Oh my Vincent,
How you have it,
Even though you couldn’t make it.
I wish you could’ve seen,
The understanding eyes,
Of people who adore you.
Your vision of that starry night,
From that omnious asylum,
Is what makes me dream,
Is what makes me believe.
You might have had a sad story,
But you influenced creativity,
And that’s the beauty of you my lovely Vincent.
You keep us going.

Aashna Vidyarthi