Depp.

She paints a pretty picture,
But her story has a twist.
Her paintbrush is her razor,
& her canvas is her wrist.
She paints her pretty picture,
In a colour that’s blood red.
While using her sharp paint brush,
She finally ends up dead.
Her pretty pictures fading,
Quite slowly on her arm.
The blood is not racing through her,
She can no longer do harm.
She painted her pretty picture,
But her picture had a twist.
You see her mind was a razor,
& her heart was her wrist