She paints a pretty picture,
But the story has a twist,
Her paint brush is a razor, and her canvas is her wrist.
She paints her pretty picture in a color that's blood red.
While using her sharp paint brush,
She ends up finally dead.
Her pretty picture fading
Quite slowly on her arm.
The blood is not racing through her anymore.
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.
YOU ARE READING
Can't Cut Deep Enough
PoetryYour not alone anymore i know how you it sucks to have depression, anxiety ect. So these are quotes, story's and poem's I've found or written myself so I hope it touches you like it did me. Oh and the ones with pictures are the ones I personally wro...