Pictures of Red

My heart sinks deep into my chest

My soul just won't let me rest

I hate myself and the work that I do

From this point forward ... Poems will be far and few

Put em in a box and tape it shut

For on my arm ... Poetic Pictures I will cut

Letting the red paintbrush run down my arm

Paintbrush strokes that will harm

A pretty picture with strokes of all red

Finger painted and wanting to be dead

It's like a picture I can't let go

A razored paintbrush on my arm sure does flow

Bandage it up and do it again

For this paintbrush is my enemy friend

Soon I'll be laying on the floor

Crying and reaching for the door

But all alone I will lay

And that will be my final day

My enemy friend paints my arm

I ill be dead before I reach the funny farm

This is the story of my life

Will I become his wife?

Or will my paintbrush enemy ruin my life

Next time will it be a knife?