“She paints a pretty picture but her painting has a twist. Her paintbrush was her razor and her canvas was her wrist. She paints a paints a pretty picture in a colour that is blood red. And with her sharp paint brush she finally ends up dead. Her pretty picture is fading quite slowly on her arm. There's no blood running through her she can no longer do any harm. She paint a pretty picture but her pocture has a twist. You see her mind was her razor and her heart was her wrist.”

Posted anonymously in Sanvello's Quotes community.