She Paints A Pretty Picture

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She paints a pretty picture,

but this story has a twist.

Her paintbrush 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 bush,

she finally ends up dead.

Her pretty pictures fading,

quite slowly on her arm.

The blood is no longer racing through her,

she can no longer do harm.

She painted a pretty picture,

but her picture had a twist.

You see, her mind was her razor,

and her heart was her wrist

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