The Artist.

There once was a girl
Strong as can be
Her name was pearl
Finally her boyfriend let her see;

The world isn't a wonderful place
He told her all about it
Then She opened up the case
And felt like something lit;

Maybe the world is fine
What she saw, something never before
How could she have been so blind?
All those times of shutting the door;

She wasn't going to rush
But she felt the need
it was a paintbrush
And paint, that could bleed;

On something so fragile it happened somedays
No one ever payed attention to her
That's all she could say
So everything was just a blur;

One day she met someone who became an artist too
She seemed really nice
Someone else who drew
Almost like blind mice;

She opened up to her
They became friends
One day she showed her,
Showed her only friend;

She said I draw too,
And there she showed her wrists.

(Her wrist was the paper, the paintbrush her razors, the paint her blood)

-Allison
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