A/N: Gotta love the Ginger of the family.

The Artist

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The painter is poised at his easel

Holding his brush like an instrument of torture

Battle stance, crouched and ready to spring

Shoulders squared and threatening

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He is hard-muscled and iron-eyed

His skin rough leather

His coarse hair the red

Of every cliché, blood and fire

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The fearsome figure bears down on the canvas

Strokes it, violently gentle

Smiles cruelly and starts to create

Destruction is now an artist