The rest of the quote from Always_Lonely_Girl_

"She paints a pretty picture in a colour that's blood red. While using her sharp paintbrush, she ends up finally dead.

The pretty picture is 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 has a twist. You see, her mind was her razor and her heart was her wrist."