Beautifully Dead

She sits in the corner
Alone and cold
She cant feel the warm smothering tears anymore
For they have left a stain in their path
Leaving her face numb and heart still aching
Her heart is still pumping life in to her veins...
Yet,with every beat there is an entirely new level of pain
She finally admits she cant keep it up anymore
So she picks up the glistening object of some sentimental value
She first begins to toy with it
The thought of using this particularly scares her
But then she compares the tremendous emotional burn and wretched heartache to the mere and swift physical sting;
and it is no match...