The Painting - Poem

"Perfect" she said as she stepped away from the canvas,

Squinting to see if anything looks off.

She turned on the water to rinse her brushes,

Guilt struck her when she heard a cough.

The water ran red as the brushed were washed,

She looked at her painting and frowned.

It was not paint on the canvas that looked all sploshed,

It was blood that slowly turned brown.

OK so I wrote ts in middle school but I thought it would be a fun post. LMK if you have any ideas for a poem because I kind of have writers block rn.