She Paints A Pretty Picture

She paint’s a pretty picture
But the story has a twist
Her paintbrush is her razor
And her canvass is her wrist

She paints a pretty picture
In a color that’s blood red
While using her sharp paintbrush
She ends up finally dead

Her pretty pictures fading
ImageQuite slowly on her arm
The blood is not racing through her
She no longer do harm

She painted a pretty picture
But this picture has a twist
You see her mind is her razor
And her heart was her wrist

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