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A Beautiful Death

The Beauty in Death[/font]

She has shed her last,
her very last tear drop.
She lays on the bed motionless,
waiting for her heartbeat to stop.

The frigid cold around her,
starts to feel warm.
All horrid thoughts vanish
to total
definite calm.

Tick Tock
Goes the clock
Even as she hears
her last song.

Her bruises darken,
as her blood drips into a pool.
The bed sheet forever ruined,
her soul to be reaped soon.

Her abused body, her abused mind
no longer ache.
She didn't want this,
and she did ask, but not a person tried help.

Tick tock
Goes the clock
The spirits sway
in rhythm with soft
rock.

She had cried for some one to save her
from the hell,
she had held on, long, to the thread of hope.
She had escaped many times,
but the social workers dragged her back
to the same hell-hole.

She was high on the H,
her step-father had injected the morning.
She was a little glad,
that this time he ended up over-dosing.

Tick tock
goes the clock
She sees the crows behind her window
start to flock.

She gets ready,
body pale as the sheet beneath.
Her eyes closing in,
slowly drowning into a deep sleep.

She starts her ghastly journey,
� �alone and
� � � �by herself.
Never imagining to see
� �the beauty of death,
� � � �at the age of twelve.

Ticks and tocks
faded away were
sounds of the clock.
She found peace,
the minute her heart
finally stopped.