Pretty Picture Poem by Anna Hardin

She paints a pretty picture,
But her story has a twist.
Her paint brush is her razor.
Her canvas is her wrist.

She paints a pretty picture,
In a color that's blood red,
While using her sharp paint brush.
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 paints a pretty picture.
But her picture has a twist.
You see her mind was her razor
And her heart was her wrist.
July 12,2013 Friday
~For every person that took their lives because of bullies~