"‘She paints a pretty picture
But the story has a twist,
Her paintbrush is a razor
And her canvas is her wrist
While using her sharp paint brush
She ends up finally dead
Her pretty picture fading
Quite slowly on her arm
The blood is not racing through her
She can no longer do harm
All she ever saw were her flaws
Which made her believe that they were all she was made of
Sadness is her drug
She tried to tell herself
‘I don’t need to feel this way’
But you can get addicted to certain kind of sadness.
It takes you away from reality
And make you see it in a whole new way
Every day it gets harder,
Every day it’s like a nightmare.
Soon she detaches herself from everything
She is invisible, limpid, transparent.
Screaming for help
But no one can hear her
A little more of her is gone,
You can see it her eyes.
Have you ever thought of it?
Of how easy it would be?
Of how you could just jump out the window
Or step in front of a car?
How you could swallow all of your pills
And it would just be
Over.
Crying is the only way her eyes speak
When her mouth can’t explain how things broke her.
Silence and tears
Just her way of screaming for help
So young, so damaged
Those nights and days
Where she just breaks down
Realizing what a burden she is
She pulls the blade across her skin
How much longer it will be?
Till the voices in her head win?
Deeper and deeper her paintbrush will dig
Until the pretty color starts to bleed
The amount of scars doesn't determine
The amount of suffering on the inside
Because…
She painted her pretty picture
But her story had a twist
You see, her mind was her razor
And her heart was her wrist’
*****///////*****
Boom da da boom ! How did you like it? It’s an extremely fast update! Like, next day update!! Better be glad. And better luff me." http://wattpad.com/story/3354372
