Paint with Blood

This canvas is her body,
The slashes made with stone,
Her skin cut deep,
Until you could see her bone.

As blood poured into paint,
Becoming intertwined,
Tears from her eyes,
An image she did design.

Picking up the brush,
And making swiping lines,
Upon the canvas,
They did not see the signs.

For hidden in the painting,
A message they did not see,
Etched in emotion,
That brought her too her knees.

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