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 paintbrush
she ends up dead.
Her pretty picture fading
quite slowely on her arm.
The blood is not racng through her
she can no longer do harm
She painted a pretty picture
but her story had a twist
You see... her mind was her razor
and her heart was her wrist
YOU ARE READING
Dark Poems
PoetryIt's funny how when you stub your toe, ot hurts like hell. But it when you slide a blade against your wrist, thigh, stomach, etc., it makes you feel good.