The Artist

Blood stained carpet,
Death after sunset.
House so secluded,
Land so polluted.
Perfect place to hide,
Scenes which they cried.
Blades sharpened up,
Bodies all sliced up.
Expel of the spectacles,
Burn all the testicles.
Windows blown apart,
Flames consuming my art.
Skies dark and gray,
Clouds block the moon's rays.
Rain drenches the ground,
Harder and harder it pounds.
Covering the deadly path,
Disguising the aftermath.
Trees sway under pressure,
Winds strong measure.
Water kills the fire,
Absorbs all its desire.
Blood washed away,
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For the artist:
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Lives another day.