Death By Art

The room was a crime scene,
the walls splattered the victim’s blood.
The floor strewn with weapons.
The culprit; red handed,
He stands in the eye of the hurricane,
Centre of destruction

I uncover my master’s weapons,
Left behind for me.
To follow in his footsteps;
With pencil blades,
and paper shields,
Brushes and paint,
Gun and ammunition.
The weapons of an artist.