She would paint pretty pictures
But these pictures had a twist
Her paintbrush was a razor
And her canvas was her wrist
She paints her pretty picture
In a color that's blood red
While using her sharp paintbrush
She ends up finally dead
Her pretty picture is fading
Quite 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
Her paintbrush was a razor
And her canvas was her wrist...
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Gallery
PoetryThis is filled with poems far and wide. There is a large selection of poems and quotes from all kinds of different categories, but they are mostly just depressing quotes I changed or came up with. If you have any problems such as cutting, having an...
