The shutters rattle in the yellow gloom,
A house once filled with paint and desperate fire.
Now haunted by the ghosts that line the room,
Where Vincent's fevered mind could not retire.

The quarrel with Gauguin still burns his chest,
A friend now lost, the bond of artists torn.
He slashed his ear, the madness took the rest,
A mind too wild, unraveling, forlorn.

The swirling st...

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