An artist is sick for entertainment of man.
An artist is weak when judged by man.
But I would've been judging an artist
if I were to state the above openly.
A sad piece of art burned to the ground.
A sacrifice in dreams is hopefully real.
A life is scribbled for me to know.
A disaster without ifs, buts or me.
A scene of white, black, grey and red.
'How pitiful this is!,' said the artist's head.
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