The Painter

By    

I grew up just a boy who never wanted to hurt a flee.
Yet God's molding on my life included people hurting me.

I only sought to become an artist, painting the wonders of our world.
But I was destined to be a warrior, perhaps defending the honor of a beautiful girl.

What a life to behold, where the odds are hard to defy.
People debate over their masters who whip them with a lie.

We're given only one land, with many worlds to attack.
I am only one man, carrying a thousand souls on my back.

I only sought to become an artist,
because the right picture is a must.
I have learned by all life's lessons.
I am more than just a painter; I am the brush.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem