I Still See It All In My Head In Burning Red

Last night I wrote something
While I was asleep
For when I’m awake
It is simply too deep

Van Gogh often said
That he gave up his soul
To his painting and art
Lost his mind down a hole

There are two sides to all
One is dark, one is light
And sometimes it’s war
And a hell of a fight

I don’t always like
When a poem just rhymes
But there’s sometimes a reason
To find order in lines

Theo, his brother
Believed in his skill
He never saw coming
The sickness that kills

I share in his nightmare
I toss in the night
My own younger brother
Gave up the good fight

I still hear the gunshot
Just one to his head
When I toss and I turn
On my own prison bed

I don’t always like
When a poem just rhymes
But there’s sometimes a reason
To find order in lines

You see on the surface
Try seeing below
It’s likely there's something
You simply don’t know

Is there a heaven
Or only a hell
Will I ever know why
Or if God made him well?  

We make it together
Or don’t make it at all
And so tolls the bell
When I hit that old wall

I don’t always like
When a poem just rhymes
But there's sometimes a reason
To find order in lines

When someone is laughing
They mean that, they do
And when someone is crying
Well… they mean that too

The next time you judge
If I’m real or a fake
I’ll hand you my shoe
Walk a mile… piece of cake?

To me, art is more
Than a brush and some paint
It’s the way that I reckon
Both Devil and Saint

I don’t always like
When a poem just rhymes
But there’s sometimes a reason
To find order in lines.

Losing him was blue like I’d never known
Missing him was dark grey all alone
Forgetting him was like trying to know somebody you never met
But loving him was red
Burning red.
— Taylor Swift