One troubling night a boy rushes to his room and slams the door. He grips his writing utensil and starts at the top of his canvas he scripples rough lines. But to his forsaken mind it is beautiful.  The deeper he gets into his drawing. He begins to fade away in a different demention, everything slows down as his heart races. Mind pondering as he is stupid enough to keep drawing. He wants to stop but he is to far gone into his trance. Deeper he goes into the beautiful artwork he is creating he suddenly notices the utensil was a razor and his canvas was hes precious body as the crimson red blood puddles around him. Faintly whisper of his innermost feelings urges the **** out of little devilish ******* Inside. Skin torn and tattered the emerge and leave him sinking, fading, lossing himself. Dead.