She can paint a pretty picture, but this story has a twist. 

Her paint brush is a razor and her canvas is her wrist.

Your paint brush may be your razor 

But to me it's like a blade, sharping you up tp give your heart a break

To make you strong so you wont go tumbling down

Your canvas may be your wrist but to me it is a shield protecting you from all those who can truly not see the real you

You don't have paint, which is good

Paint does you no good  

It's not there because, it's to remind you that you don't need to paint a smile on your face everyday

You are who you are

Paint your pretty picture and hang it high above the clouds

Sharing it to everyone whoever brings you down

Remember everyone is not what they seem 

There is more to people than you think they mean

They always have there loved ones and family to help them truly see what they have already seen.