She paints a pretty picture but this picture has a twist you see.. her paintbrush is a razor and her canvas is her wrist

She paints a pretty picture

but this picture has a twist

you see.. her paintbrush is a razor

and her canvas is her wrist

she paints her pretty picture

in a color thats blood red

while using her sharp painbrush

she ends up finally dead

her pretty pictures fading

quite slowly on her arm

the blood is not racing through her

she can no longer do harm

she painted her pretty picture

but her picture had a twist

you see her mind was the razor

and her heart was just her wrist

It's like being emo, but for they psychopaths.  Kinda like me, kinda like you, kinda like all of us. I can tell you right now i feel dead inside, and i suppose it's self inflicted, like a razor on a wrist. But who can judge weather or not that was the physical razor on wrist or the mind on the heart. Which actually kills you?