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Array
(
[sid] => 72459
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => As She Lays Waiting
[time] => 2004-11-20 19:44:40
[hometext] => Dedicated... I know that my last poem was not so great, and I do hope that this one is better.
[bodytext] => She lays there in her deathbed, silently waiting. Her mind in turmoil, wondering when her end will really come. She just learnt two weeks ago about her terminal illness, and yet there was still no hope. It's the fourth stage, the fourth stage of cancer. She despises the word, despises her defeat.... It was too late. Too late to cure her, to save her. Her death is near, and she knows it, her time has come, although it is quite unfair. She never deserved this, she never comitted a crime. Her body feels weak, her soul tired - nothing about her is the same as it used to be. Her skin is pale, dotted with marks and bruises, her hair withering away. She looks so sickly, so sad and frail... and there's nothing she can do to change it. She has been given an alotted time, a life span, a few months more to breathe, to live... She lays there, knowing that this bed, this room, will be where she slips away. She lays there, trying to stay calm, her heart thumping, her mind swirling. Sickness, all around. The simplest tasks take enormous effort - she no longer has her independence. She no longer has her privacy... she is dying, and knows her time is near. She doesn't show her emotions to her loved ones, not letting them let on that she comprehends the fact that she's slipping away. She doesn't want them to give up hope that she can beat her awful illness, even when she has done so herself. She lays there in her deathbed, silent tears falling down her pale and sickly face. She doesn't bother wiping them off - it takes too much energy. Slowly she slips away, her skin turning a tint of blue, her body choking, her heart pumping furiously, her lungs struggling to work. She slips into a stream of unconciousness, pulled by the vigorous current. Her heart stops beating, her brain damaged. People are calling her, telling her to fight, to live... She doesn't hear, for she is already gone, her body only functioning by the help of a machine... She is pulled under the current, drowning, drowning to her death.... the death that she was trying to prepare for... Her wait is up. [comments] => 3 [counter] => 189 [topic] => 39 [informant] => cocacola1331 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Grief )
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