I've spoken of this in things I've written before
And though repetition and monotony don't seem all that wonderful
This seems valid enough to continue on with in this state
Is art, and my art better when the artist, and I, are feeling awful
Because studies conducted by fancy people with fancy titles
That yes, indeed, true art is sorrow-driven
And it makes me wonder and contemplate
God, I know it's awful, but I've almost relapsed with many things just for the sake that-
"Maybe it'll provoke some good art!"
But that's hideous and unhealthy
Still the thought occurs, and I've nearly taken my muse up on that dangerous offer
She's trying to kill me, I'm sure-
But what'll you do; destroy for art, am I right?
I suppose if I'm so intent on ripping my ribcage open-
I better be up for a share or two of pain, huh?
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