She paints a pretty picture so beautiful and so sound. Her canvas is her wrist and the paint her is her blood and her tears come Down in floods. Red paint slowly turned into black lines. What seemed so beautiful turned out so ugly. The pretty picture was really a solemn stick figure and now its nothing but spilled paint and black lines. Reality of it all was all she needed was paper and not her wrist with a marker not a knife now wouldnt that have been an amazing twist...