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
