The artist

He thinks what he does is art

He is wrong

His "art" achieves nothing

Except death and mayhem

He thinks that he's a hero

He's wrong

He goes to his "canvas"

He gets his "paints" ready, and After he is gone

His "art" is completed

That night, on the television

His "art" is displayed

For everyone to see

Most are narrow-minded to his "art"

Some think his art is exquisite

They are wrong

He thinks explosions are beautiful

Anguish brings him joy

There is no art in what he does