I kind of got sick with people romanticising self harm, and i was feeling particularly low at the time of writing this.

She painted such horrific things
upon the beauty of her skin
memories and moments
she couldn't explain

things that had caused her too much pain

Instead of using a paint brush
to paint the feelings in her heart
she used a razor blade
to create each scar

And, as her blood began to trickle
she couldn't help but laugh a little

The End

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