A man named Vincent once said, "this
sadness will last forever,"
and then,
he died.
With a bullet through his chest,
he lay in his brother's arms
and fled this already
fleeting world.
Sometimes I wonder
what lead him to
taking a revolver to those wheat fields
instead of extra paints,
and I want to know
if he could look foreword in time
and see who he had become,
would he have
changed his
mind?
I'd like to think that
sadness is temporary,
not everlasting.
I believe that it was only eternal for Vincent,
because he died right after
those words left his mouth,
and I wonder if I say them
right now,
will I have the ability
to alter their
permanency.
YOU ARE READING
yours very truly, vincent
Poesía"there may be a great fire in our hearts, yet no one ever comes to warm himself at it, and the passers-by see only a wisp of smoke." - vincent van gogh. my entry for _theskyisthelimit_ 's 100 poems challenge. (c) mockingjayde 2013
