pretty picture

She paints a pretty picture,

But the story has a twist,

Her paint brush is a razor,

And she carves in her wrist or thighs,

She paints her pretty picture,

In a color that's blood red,

While using that sharp paint brush,

she ends up finally dead,

Her pretty pictures are fading,

Quite slowly on her arm,

The blood in not racing through her,

She can no longer do harm,

She painted her pretty picture,

But her picture has a twist,

You see her mind was the razor,

And her heart was her wrist.

Reviews

[SmittyJas]

Pretty picture all in row. You are there but nobody knows. You're the mystery to this write I must say, Write some more I just can't stay away. Love it dear.