When the heart betrays

Pretty picture

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 pictures 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 the story had a twist

You see her mind was her razor

And her heart was her wrist