Art by Seth Thomas Matson
His strokes were slow and straight,The scene was a biblical flood,The canvas was filled,
The mission was complete,
And it all was done with blood.
The vein was draining fast,The tube drilled into the brush,The needle was deep,His body pale white,He lost that cheeky blush.
He stared at his piece in awe,The needle still in his fore,Life dripped from the brush,His heart slowed down,He fell hard to the floor.
The girl ran in on time,His body began to erupt,She rushed him quick,He faded fast in her arms,They knew his time was up.
That night he died alone,The piece was all his heart,The canvas stayed,Her tears remained,His piece was truly art.Like
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