I draw on a leaf of paper,
My pencil is blade.
I painted a lovely picture,
My canvass is my skin.
I washed my face with blood.
I put make ups with knife.
I colored my skin with purple bruises.
I combed my hair with thorns.
Trying to wake my numb and cold heart up.
And feel the blood that runs through my veins.
To lit the fire of my chilled bones.
And heal the heart of my rotting flesh.
