A Painting

He is an artist with furious, biting hands
He scribbles scenes he hasn’t seen
“But I’ve been there,” he says
Gesturing to a distorted image
It appears to be a festering wound

You are the soldier
And you are the artist
You are the nobleman, the commissioner
Paying for palatable pain

Show me a man on a horse
More than a man, a mission
With a god-given gun
We’ll say it wasn’t greed
That he was like a greek hero

And don’t you want to die for your home?
In a hole full of boys,
Eyes as empty as their future
Don’t depict that in your painting

Your hands are still biting
They rip up the ground
And spit out the flowers in a ravenous frenzy
Don’t depict that in your painting
Say you grew a garden instead
It’ll be easier on us all