What happens when one goes too far for the sake of 'Art'?
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Some claimed he was a martyr As they led him to be hung, Some rendered him incapable Of telling right from wrong, Others believed he must be insane For his mind to be twisted so, They watched him hang for the sake of art, And the lengths to which he did go A master artist; his reputation Was great through-out the lands, He'd take his dreams, and take some clay, And model them with his hands, With a paintbrush and a pallet He thought he could never be forlorn, He only need apply himself And a masterpiece was born But a master of his high degree Soon tired of his tools, He'd used all common mediums, He yearned to break the rules, It twisted and it grueled him No solution could he find, Until, suddenly, a sadistic plan Formed solidly in his mind At the dead of night, he kidnapped children Aged from two to ten, He tied them to his canvasses And, with a manic grin, He shot them: dead. To see The blood markings they left behind, He heralded them as works of art And unleashed them on mankind He used their blood as paint And used their hair to make texture, It pained him not to see the dead His conscience could endure, A masterpiece he made With the deceased and their entrails, It pleased him to finish the sickening sight That would make his viewers wail When charged with murder, he laughed Then he admitted openly, They hanged him in the Town square So the entire world could see What had become of this great artist, And his sickening ideas, The hangman's noose had been his end, Though he lived on in people's fears So, next time you pick up a pallet And decide to paint, Make sure that it is something sweet or fun; or bright; or quaint, Don't make the same mistake This artist made: variety. Extreme art is not accepted In today's society. |