~I'll draw u a picture
I'll draw it with a twist
I'll draw it with a razor
I'll draw it on my wrist
If I do it correctly
A red fountain will appear
To wake away my pain
And wash away my fear
~I knew a boy who like to draw,
He drew pictures that nobody saw.
He was more artistic late at night,
In the bathroom, out of sight.
He kept a secret no one knew,
He didn't tell a soul and hid gallery grew.
His drawings were different, no paper or pen,
But needed a bandage now and again.
We stood by the river under the stars,
He rolled up his sleeves and showed me his scars.
He felt embarrassed and looked down at his shoes,
Then I rolled up my sleeve and whispered, "I draw too."
~she paints a pretty picture
But the story has a twist
Her paintbrush is a razor
And her canvas is her wrist
She paints a pretty picture
In a color that's blood red
While using her sharp paint brush
She finally ends up dead
Her pretty picture fading
Quotes slowly on her arm
The blood is not racing through her
She can no longer do harm
She painted her pretty picture
But her picture had a twist
You see her mind was her razor
And her heart was her wrist
These are ones that are in almost every self harm book and I decided to do them to.
