The scarlet drops of warm blood looked like blood red roses upon her
ghostly white skin
Blood red roses planted in fresh snow.

Many found it odd that she looked so beautiful, so alive when they found her
corpse on the bed
Like a lifeless porcelain doll, yet bursting with life.

The gorgeous satin sheets had become delicately painted by her divine death
An abstract red painting done on a white canvas.

Beside her body lay a bloody scalpel and razorblades which swam in her
blood
Her blood had been drained.

Her delicate wrists and soft arms wore bracelets and rings of blood all the
way up to her elbows
She was wearing blood red jewelry on her hands and arms.

Nobody had ever seen such a stunning death, so artistic, elegant and
seductive
A very detailed wax statue on a bed scattered with rose petals.

Although it was a tragedy, not one person seemed poignant, nobody was
crying
For they were all in awe of her beauty.

Not one frosty tear from her silver eyes had broken the silence of her
smooth face
Tragedy was non-existent at the time of her death.

It was the perfect death, it was flawless, the way she died
So brilliant and beautiful.

A sweet, seductive suicide; wrists were gently slit and arms had rows of
cuts and yet
Not a tear was shed.
 
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