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Tortured Artists
They call us tortured artists
the souls separated by the barrier of Feel
They call us tortured artists because we see
far more than humans should--
Our eyes of oceans and earth are
wrought with the hurt and empty hope
putting cracks in God’s human’s hearts.
We paint the earth not in hues of indigo and scarlet,
but in shades of jealousy, hurt, and happy.
They call us tortured artists because our hands speak for our hearts
but our lips paint only silence.
We see the mountains of grief and canyons of love,
wielding paintbrushes, we try to smear the butterflies of life
on a canvas of snow. But it’s flat.
Our art is but chicken scratches in comparison
to the masterpieces painted by God--
and only we can see it.
We are tortured
We are raw
We are human x100
We try to paint what we feel
but we feel the whole universe.
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I wrote this poem in the hopes of conveying what it is like to feel things so vividly and deeply. Some call me sensitive, others call me emotional, but I have found that I simply see things differently than most. Although it is sometimes painful, I would never change my perspective for one that is shallower or easier. The way I view life and its inhabitants is what makes me different, so I wrote this poem hoping to let people who are like me know they are not alone, and that it is sort of amazing to feel life so strongly.