Vincent Van Gogh (1853-1890)
Wheat Field With Crowsand perhaps when he raised his legendary brush that day; he felt turmoil in his hands
omens of crow, deep into his skin like ghastly snake fangs
the indigo venom diverged all over his burial brain,
melancholic defeat made its way to his stone-hard; weakly pulsating veins
the hurricanes of his heart annihilated him like locusts in a wheat maze,
an internal war with his soul, that'd lead him to the path of his final days
────────────────────────
A/N: I recently kinda started taking interest in art (I personally suck at it lmao). This was Van Gogh's last painting before he died. The cause of his death was getting shot, suicide or not, still not clear. This is my interpretation of this painting. Do leave your views as well.
YOU ARE READING
Throes of Spring ✔️
Poetry[FEATURED] godhood is just like girlhood: a begging to be believed