Array ( [sid] => 178696 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Why? [time] => 2014-07-03 22:55:53 [hometext] => My bestfriend's brother passed away. I started getting panic attacks in the middle of the night... then this happened. [bodytext] => Even several moments after I was informed, I wasn’t aware that my palm was now lying on my chest. My breathing had escalated to a fast pace that just as immediately diminished to a slow speed. My heart was involuntarily rotating to an angle resembling ache. He was fifteen they said, when he fell unconscious to the ground and was declared dead within minutes. Images? No Hiba. Stop picturing. Even as my surrounding was pleading me to lose focus, the image of him motionless on the earth induced tears in my eyes. The shade of brown on his eyes were probably just as beautiful the day he collapsed but no one else would discover that because his period was over. The place he held in this world was already occupied by someone else. Nowadays time was becoming an issue of calculation to me and here this boy had already defeated the equation of time. He was on the way to see his maker and I was further away than ever. Confusion colored my face and heartache was a pain I couldn’t ignore. I saw him, everywhere I went, in everyone I was with. The memory of him began to mold itself into a puzzle of demanding questions: Why was I here and he wasn’t? Why am I happy and Imran isn’t?
[comments] => 1 [counter] => 120 [topic] => 39 [informant] => hibissa [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Grief ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Why?


Why?
Date: Thursday, 3rd July 2014 @ 10:55:53 PM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: hibissa
Even several moments after I was informed, I wasn’t aware that my palm was now lying on my chest. My breathing had escalated to a fast pace that just as immediately diminished to a slow speed. My heart was involuntarily rotating to an angle resembling ache. He was fifteen they said, when he fell unconscious to the ground and was declared dead within minutes. Images? No Hiba. Stop picturing. Even as my surrounding was pleading me to lose focus, the image of him motionless on the earth induced tears in my eyes. The shade of brown on his eyes were probably just as beautiful the day he collapsed but no one else would discover that because his period was over. The place he held in this world was already occupied by someone else. Nowadays time was becoming an issue of calculation to me and here this boy had already defeated the equation of time. He was on the way to see his maker and I was further away than ever. Confusion colored my face and heartache was a pain I couldn’t ignore. I saw him, everywhere I went, in everyone I was with. The memory of him began to mold itself into a puzzle of demanding questions: Why was I here and he wasn’t? Why am I happy and Imran isn’t?


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