War

My war is like art, my rifle's my brush.. Painting and drawing with the bullets through the hush.

Firing with accuracy, so one may not choke..

Painting perfection with each and every stroke..

I empty the rounds, til no one is cease.

As I continue to work on my great masterpiece...

I fight and I fight, as the war pushes on... The canvas starts filling from the pictures I've drawn...

Grenades, bombing, screams lit the air... My paintings look so real as if you were right there...

Hatred, love, gore and things... Just more shades of color to the paper, added to the scene...

I've painted alot, but this one was different.

For this was my last artwork, I had come to my limit...

The enemy appeared, and I shot steadily and harder...

I dipped my paintbrush one last time in the water..

As the smoke and haze cleared, I felt it, I was hit.

A few more touches to the painting and this could be it.

I drop to my knees, the rifle hits the deck. My brush falls on the canvas, and rolls off the desk..

As im dying in the dirt, where the bullet had shot...

Another artist has started his own piece of art...

Paintings aren't famous til the artist passes away..

Well this hero of war...became famous today...

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