Meh Bio Book!

I'm No Poet But... I Tried..?

Scars

Pretty little memories

Plastered onto bodies

Pretty little pain filled paintings

Except the painting has a twist

The painter is the pain,

And your canvas is the skin

For most it's is a wrist

And your brush of course,

Can range from little household items

Just like this;

Flames and blades,

Needles and more..

All used in the same way

To watch the blood and the pain pour

Away with sadness and pain..

Away with sorrow and fear..

But doing things just like this...

Can hurt whoever is dear

Now I myself am no artist,

But for sure, I can paint,

My little wicked artwork

From all of my pain,

And all of my little drawings,

Are plastered across my wrists