She paints herself a picture but the story has a twist. Her paintbrush is her razor and canvas is her wrist. She paints her pretty picture in a colour that's blood read. While using her sharp paintbrush, she ends up finally dead. Her pretty picture fading, quite slowly down her arm. The blood not racing through her, she can no longer do harm. She painted her pretty picture, but the picture had a twist. Her mind was her razor, and her heart was her wrist.
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Some Kind Of Quotes
RandomIt started with good quotes about happy stuff. When times change people change. I guess I changed cause all I can think about is depressed quotes that suit in my life. But when I think about it, it didn't start with happy quotes at all. I'm sorry i...
