Pale as a death a virtuous maiden was. At a deadly cost ethereal beauty came. A pure martyr disguised as scarlet rose Who sought to find a novel road to fame.
The sinful steps to a dreadful sick discovery Uncovered human's imminently ugly nature. Now under question a chance of full recovery Has added to her life a daily dose of danger.
A paintbrush as a key to tortured soul's pain, Depicting inner agony on scabrous canvas — The product, of an insanely genius brain, A case of inconceivable artistic madness.
Deep burns from cigarettes She hid under her curls. And for the scars around her wrists She wore long sleeved silken clothes.
Forget she tried. She tried deny A life with demons deep inside And scars that kept her soul alive. Yet, inner monster one can't hide.
A time has come for change of season, With winter knocking on the moldy door, Forgotten was the little sense of reason. She had to look into the hellhole core.
The call was heard to clear clouded mind, And free oneself from chains of futile being. One needle, to leave a mortal world behind And to embrace the power of unearthly feeling.
Reached now was the desirous apogee. A fatal masterpiece was now complete. The winter passed, time to lament in elegy The killing effect of the painting was achieved.