Personal Piece- Contains upsetting material - She painted a pretty picture

[Secret,Me]

She painted a pretty picture
The picture she painted was blood red
She painted a pretty picture but it had a twist
The brush was a blade the paper her wrist
The paint flowed like a river long and deep
She liked the picture so much she did another
With each picture more skin she would cover
While the picture grew her soul got smaller
Her art was only for her to see
On the outside she was happy
She lived for that release
It was time to paint her master piece
She was the artist who painted in red
She is dead

[AngieGirl]

I like this because you have taken whats become quite a cliched concept and put a twist in it with the contrasts and the rhyme scheme. Putting in some punctuation marks in addition to breaking it into paragraphs would really help with the flow of the poem. I would also suggest going over the poem a few times to see if you can add to it. Creating more of a story-line before the final dramatic ending will increase the impact of it.

Good luck with editing!

[Secret,Me]

thanks very much this is the first poem I ever wrote I home in time they will get better

[PeachyK]

Great!! :)

[Frozen Yoghurt]

By any chance did you base this on another poem? It reminded me of an anonymous poem I read as a teenager :)

I really like it, and I like the link with the anon poem.
You could, if you wanted, work on structure. So, for example:

Quote:

With each picture more skin she would cover
While the picture grew her soul got smaller

You could have it look like

Quote:

With each picture more skin she would cover
While the picture grew her
soul
got
smaller

To symbolise actually getting smaler

[LittleCloud]

There are such strong images- it's a beautiful first poem- very sad, but beautiful

[The Herbalist.]

I hate to be "that guy", but a few lines of your poem are pretty much copied off of this... a poem that's been circulating the Internet for a while.

"She paints a pretty picture,
But the story has a twist,
Her paint brush is a razor

And her canvas is her wrist,
She paints her pretty picture
In a color that's blood red

While using her sharp pain brush
She ends up finally 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 her razor


And her heart was her wrist"

http://www.quotev.com/story/2163808/...tty-Picture/1/
http://kupika.com/diarypage.php?id=b4e1faa434e33abj2hn0