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she paints a pretty picture but the story has a twist a paint brush is a razor and her canvas is her wrist she paints her pretty picture in a colour that's blood red while using her sharp paint brush she ends up finally dead her pretty picture is fading quite slowly on her arm the blood is not racing though her she can no longer do harm she painted her pretty picture but her picture had a twist I see her mind was her razor and her heart was her wrist.

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