Bane of my existence

They say the best art comes from pain  
I don’t know if I believe that  
But I do know that most of my paintings  writings, and photos come from  
A very unhappy place.   
Also who are “they”  
Do they hurt, and cry, and bleed?  
Do they understand how miserable a life can be?  
And how did “they” spread this around?    
I don’t know if the best art comes from pain.  
But I do know the bane of my existence is pain  
And that writing and painting and carving it out of myself 
Like blood on a wrist  
Is where my art exists    
Though it may be sad, it’ll make you feel.  
And for most of us, to feel is a luxury.  
The pain of our time must be felt  
Or else we will never learn from it.    
And the vicious cycle happens again.