Painting was her only way out.
She used a brush and painted slowly.
She painted clean lines, some were painted abstractly.
She laid down everything and went to her quiet place, so calm and so content.

She painted those beautiful marks, yes they were true works of art.
She marveled the color red, every stroke was beautifully made.
When people saw her art, they were not too amazed because the painting showed she was broken and bruised, but only if you knew her blade was her tool.

Her wrist was her canvas so clean, so beautiful, and so sheer, with every brush of a stroke, she had no fear.
Her canvas was red, it was very much so, but when it dried up, it left drips motionless.
Motionless pain that consumed her heart became a burning furnace that burned in the dark.

The pain consumed her innocent heart, but she prays to overcome the forbidden dark.
She hopes for happiness within her life, so she tries to stay and live out the fight.
She wants to fight the forbidden world and make it out to a better one.
One day she hopes to leave her brush alone and overcome the darkness with her gentle soul.