Painted picture

My body is a painted picture
and my paint brush is a razor
the canvas is my wrist
and some say my life is full of twist
the voices tell me its time to run
all the while asking "we having fun"
i hear my dad screaming
and i see my father leaving
knowing my mothers crying is coming soon
and its only noon
i grab my paint brush
some say i cut for a rush
but they don't know shit, they are just fools
so i carve a bloody stool
my light is fading fast
i wish my pain would just past
i see you open the door
as i fall to the floor