The Atrist's Torment

Written by: Stephen Thom

The creative mind of the artist, absorbing colours, emotions and pain 
His trembling hand creates a masterpiece, perfection he will never attain 
With the crimson from his bleeding veins, the ebony of soulless skies 
He mixes with such insanity, a pallet of tears for the dryest eyes 

Feel the loneliness within his shades of blue, violent crimson strokes so bold 
The piercing light of an ice cold white, the hues of summer sun so gold 
With eyes that see darkness, deep within the very soul of man 
He suffers on the edge of insanity, creating works few will ever understand 

It's plain all efforts of his artistry, were wasted within arts suffering and pain 
He never caught the beauty of neon streets, nor the spectrums in diamante rain
There is a pleasure within all poetic pains, which only the artist and poet knows 
The imagery used to paint a thousand words , was left to the beeding thorn of rose