She paints a pretty picture,
But the story has a twist,
Her paint is a razor
And her canvas is her wrist,
She paints her pretty picture
In a colour that’s blood red
While using her sharp pain brush
She ends up finally dead.
Her pretty pictures fading
Quite slowly down 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,
You see her mind was her razor
And her heart was her wrist.
YOU ARE READING
self harm / depression quotes and poems
Acaka series of quotes, poems, songs on self harm and depression, may be triggering. So I've passed the limit so I'm starting a new one
