Paint Yourself Beautiful

She paints a lovely picture,
But this story has a twist.
Her paintbrush is a razor,
and the canvas is her wrist.

Her paintings display her hurt inside,
Flaunting broken promises.
As red drips down, each line shows
Everything she's began to miss.

People stare, ask questions.
She's never without excuse.
"An accident." "I fell." She claims.
No one bothers that she's with out a bruise.

Force a smile, fake a laugh
No one will suspect,
That every night, you cry your eyes
And paint yourself with regret.