Torn are the mentality of artists

Stretched across a canvas like paint

Beauty is not without madness

Or at least the poets like to claim

Vincent van Gogh died at age 37

Tortured by his own mind

One gunshot wound to his head

And another great atrist had died

Beethoven drank too much

For his body to contain

Drowned himself in beer and wine

Until death called his name

Edvard Munch imagined things

More than his reality could provide

Hallucinations and captivations

Were where he’d often reside

All the most knowledgeable people

Were imprisoned by their own minds

Artists and composers and sceintists

Locked in a cage confined

They knew the beauty of the world

Its darkness and its light

And tradgedy struck to pay the debt

Of knowing too much in a human mind