Blood Art
And as her world came crashing down, she closed her eyes to paint.
But the paintbrush was a razor;
The canvas, her skin.
While red slashes drew themselves across her soul.
All she felt, was a surge of relief.
As she created her dark masterpiece.
But the paintbrush was a razor;
The canvas, her skin.
While red slashes drew themselves across her soul.
All she felt, was a surge of relief.
As she created her dark masterpiece.
Ah. I remember this one.
ReplyDeleteFrom where? O.o
ReplyDeleteI've either read this piece before, courtesy you or I just remember that particular episode.
Delete