The girl grips a silver paintbrush
Solid
Cold
Sharp
She looks at herself
Her frown
Her smile
Her tears
Her relief.
She grips it tight
And she struggles
But
She pulls the paintbrush and
Red paint
Thick and warm
Drops onto the world
And leaves it's mark
Painful Truths
By mmmocha
Life asked Death, "Why do people love me but hate you?" and Death replied, "Because you are a beautiful lie a... More