The light reflects off the brush
My canvas covered in red
As I watch the red trail dry
My mind whispers to me
Tells me to paint more
Tells me that I will look beautiful soon
That those who hate me will accept me for who I am
That I won't feel anything soon
So I do as I'm told
I paint until I am covered in red
With my gruesome deed done
I go to bed
Knowing that it was my fate
For those who love me came to late
For my wrist is my canvas
And my brush a blade
I lay my head down
And wait for the day
When I will feel nothing
