Starry Starry Night

He looked at the sky; he saw something. What once was dead and devoid of light Released life through its resplendent rings, Giving him the starry starry night. He was not outside to see it all, For he could only look behind bars Of the window that remained too small, The sole bridge that led him to the stars. With its vibrant colors and blue soul, The starry starry night sang its song To live, to inspire, and to console The misfits whose hearts did not belong. So when the mad artist was set free. He dreamt and hoped to fulfill his part. Since beauty lived in what he could see, He knew painting would define his heart. He did not want the world to see him For all his smiling scars dug deeply, For bandaged ears and tormented screams But as someone who felt tenderly. He locked away his identity In flowers and starry starry nights In spontaneous colors breaking free, Companions that made him see the light. Then the starry starry night was gone, And it felt like his brother was too. He knew he had nothing and no one For Hope had left him without a clue. So he chose crows over sunflowers With colors as dull as his last days When he knew sorrow like no other, When he realized that he had no place. He looked at the sky; he saw nothing. What once was alive and very bright Chose stiff silence instead of singing -- Till it left, the starry starry night.