Spitting and hissing, I slammed my fist into her smirking face. She reeled back, clutching her jaw, but swung back with equal fervour, fire burning behind those darkly shadowed eyes. It stung more than I expected it to, and I lunged at her.
I left the bathroom, making sure
there was no trail of paper cut
eyes trailing behind me,
and I met her. She,
whose hair looked like it suffocated
fires and whose great palms
could clench a can
together, so easily. She
whose good graces
I wanted to fall into, whose
charm under smoke exhilarated me
What lipstick colour are you wearing?
She liked it,
thought it looked like summer.
It’s my teeth, I said.
I bight them so sometimes
it hurts to brush them. I had never
told anyone that.
I fought with certain forces that I wouldn’t articulate. Sometimes it feels more worthwhile to kill the things inside than to face the adversity of looking someone straight in the eye and telling them the demons you have within.
Why do you stand their with a smirk on your face? Why? You utter scum. You have no idea. No idea of what I’ve had to do to get here. I have battled my way this far and i will destroy you if you dare get in my way.
We fought almost every day- over everything from television to where we were going to dinner, from our hopes and dreams to the foolishness of our greatest fears. I was so tired of putting on my battle armor each day. I wanted to lie in your arms, naked, and feel unafraid.
Steve counted his paces to the saloon door, his fingers twitching by his gun holster. He told himself to breathe as he kept his eyes straight ahead. He stopped short in the middle of the dirt path as the tall, one-eyed cowboy emerged, guns already drawn. A shot rang out. His fingers twitch one last time as he took his last breath.
Not now, done. Never again. She sighned in disbelief. How could she? The battle raged through fragile pulsating viscera. The one that stood firmly planted, alive in flighted rage and the one who had given up. Hope defeated. A tortured mind whose light had faded through darkened deeds. The fight was over never again. She screamed in disdain. NEVER AGAIN! the footsteps stood frozen and his breath was a thick fog of tabacco and gin. Frozen the sweat damped skin glistening in the moonlight. There was no breath, no murmur of life. The corpse of a spirit once animated in slumber, in a shallow grave of hatred evolving into free radicals united with deathly intent. She stood firmly in life that was pausing, a stillness that strangled fear so deep he sinews quivered in tacky phlegm. All was not well yet she smiled with conviction and no one saw the terror creeping through her eyes as she searched within for a moment of life for faith arising from within her somewhere.
there was a struggle. we met in a circle of onlookers. he had more backers than i did and at least 50 more pounds on him than me. but i was determined. and with one blow…
In the height of their triumph, she sank in a silence that could not be fought or conquered. The cause had been delivered and served to those who must be avenged. What was now the point of living?
Anabel fought with her boyfriend but this was any fight, this was about her daughter, his stepdaughter. She thought he would understand about the bond between daughter and mother but clearly he didn’t. He didn’t understand that her daughter was sick and needed her more and that broke her heart like crazy. Why wouldn’t he understand that?
Looking to see what internally is the truth. The constant battles of the mind can overwhelm the existence of today as it is consistently overshadowed with negativity. Merging into the new existence is an necessity as only God’s truth can really reveal. He fought for my life and He continues to fight now.
And she fought with everyone.. mostly herself. she fought to stay happy. she fought the feelings of despair and desperation. the only option she had was to pretend to be happy. the second she gave up that fight, she feared everyone would be disappear.
They fought all the time. He could never stop them and he probably wouldn’t if he was given the opportunity. They were, after all, fighting over him.
She for love, and he for his safety, they fought over this small child for a very long time. And the boy knew the fighting would only end when one of them was dead.
I fought for what we had, but him, he seemed to care less, always too busy with his friends and or just completely stolid towards me. He was never able to fully let go of himself and completely fall for me. There were constant walls with him. All I needed to see was that he was willing to rely, lean on, and need me in his life, yet I felt that that would never happen. I’ve tried so many times to get him to let me in. It’s just to the point that being stuck on the outside is cruel punishment, slowly and torturously breaking my heart.
I fought my way through the crowded area… I had to get to the front! I knew it was happening, I closed my eyes, not being able to bare the thought of what I will see when I get there.
They had never had a big, major fight. They only argued about the tiniest of things, and every time, each would be forgiven after their apologies. Yet, they still drifted apart. Without warning, without a reason, they never spoke to each other again.
They fought like animals, spitting words like they were venom and practically clawing each other to death. Her eyes were wide as she watched them start again for the third time that evening.
“Are you sure they’ll be ok alone together?”
He looked at her sideways, then snickered. “Oh, they’ll be more than just ok. Ten bucks says they’ll be making out again within ten minutes.”
Alarms sound like battle horns
blinds draw like swords
words strike like daggers
glares pierce like bullets
and your hatred explodes like falling bombs.
You thunder through like rumbling tanks
rapid-fire machine guns ready
I am your target
you take aim
I duck
but not well enough.
I patch up my wounds
with shattered confidence
and a depleting supply of hope
and courage
Enough courage for tomorrow
and tomorrow’s tomorrow.
And all the tomorrows
added up and compiled
will never be enough
to fix all my yesterdays
and erase all my mistakes
like meeting you.
Because every day is a struggle for sanity
a tipping scale of diminishing returns
a carefully balance three legged chair
And you are the wind
threatening to topple me over
with your breath.
Each day is a struggle for sanity
and I dread the day
that “fight” becomes “fought”.
They fought harder that day than anyone before them had. Men and women cried as they listened to news broadcasts of how many had died. Jenkins just thought of how he had to make it up this next hill. Moving one foot in front of the other had never been this difficult before. The pack on his back dug into his shoulders and cut into his lower back.
Fighting. Screaming at the top of your lungs. The air was barely seeping in. I had no chance of survival you were slowly killing me though this fight. I had no idea how powerful you were. I had no idea that you could control me.
We fought all day. About absolutely nothing. It was stupid. I had never heard of such madness. It was like he had just completely died inside and I was talking to a lifeless body. He never acted this way toward me. I didn’t understand.
I had fought with my brother many times, and yet I didn’t want to lift a finger against him now. Not while he was in the hospital bed, white sheets and all, everything pearly and sterile and way too bright for my liking. The tubes, snaking together in large, unfriendly coils, did not help the mood either, and I set the flowers down carefully as if worried I’d break something in the room.
“My least favorite plants,” my brother grunted. “You’re an asshole.”
I smiled, eyes watering – because of the flowers, I told myself. “I know.”
We fought like animals underneath the blazing sun. I had enough of our fights. He would smack me around thinking that he had a hold of me. Our petty fights were putting a strain on our relationship. I knew that our five year old son had begun to notice it too.
Hazel and Augustus fought for cancer, so cancer didn’t beat them
That news came from CBC news
Is this the only thing people do in our world we only see students fighting many people have fought in the life we all have been through this
Coralline matters (Augustus ex-girlfriend) fought her way thought her brain cancer.
Bokoharam fought Borneo state in Nigeria against western education
They fought a good fight for canner
The characters in this book fought the good fight. They did not allow the cancer. To beat them or use it as a crutch.
Spitting and hissing, I slammed my fist into her smirking face. She reeled back, clutching her jaw, but swung back with equal fervour, fire burning behind those darkly shadowed eyes. It stung more than I expected it to, and I lunged at her.
they we I
fought
for golden gods
and stained glass
sun
I thought
they and we
were one
I left the bathroom, making sure
there was no trail of paper cut
eyes trailing behind me,
and I met her. She,
whose hair looked like it suffocated
fires and whose great palms
could clench a can
together, so easily. She
whose good graces
I wanted to fall into, whose
charm under smoke exhilarated me
What lipstick colour are you wearing?
She liked it,
thought it looked like summer.
It’s my teeth, I said.
I bight them so sometimes
it hurts to brush them. I had never
told anyone that.
I fought with certain forces that I wouldn’t articulate. Sometimes it feels more worthwhile to kill the things inside than to face the adversity of looking someone straight in the eye and telling them the demons you have within.
Why do you stand their with a smirk on your face? Why? You utter scum. You have no idea. No idea of what I’ve had to do to get here. I have battled my way this far and i will destroy you if you dare get in my way.
We fought almost every day- over everything from television to where we were going to dinner, from our hopes and dreams to the foolishness of our greatest fears. I was so tired of putting on my battle armor each day. I wanted to lie in your arms, naked, and feel unafraid.
Steve counted his paces to the saloon door, his fingers twitching by his gun holster. He told himself to breathe as he kept his eyes straight ahead. He stopped short in the middle of the dirt path as the tall, one-eyed cowboy emerged, guns already drawn. A shot rang out. His fingers twitch one last time as he took his last breath.
many people fight for their lives when they have cancer some make it out alive some die in the process and some survive but are never the same again
Not now, done. Never again. She sighned in disbelief. How could she? The battle raged through fragile pulsating viscera. The one that stood firmly planted, alive in flighted rage and the one who had given up. Hope defeated. A tortured mind whose light had faded through darkened deeds. The fight was over never again. She screamed in disdain. NEVER AGAIN! the footsteps stood frozen and his breath was a thick fog of tabacco and gin. Frozen the sweat damped skin glistening in the moonlight. There was no breath, no murmur of life. The corpse of a spirit once animated in slumber, in a shallow grave of hatred evolving into free radicals united with deathly intent. She stood firmly in life that was pausing, a stillness that strangled fear so deep he sinews quivered in tacky phlegm. All was not well yet she smiled with conviction and no one saw the terror creeping through her eyes as she searched within for a moment of life for faith arising from within her somewhere.
there was a struggle. we met in a circle of onlookers. he had more backers than i did and at least 50 more pounds on him than me. but i was determined. and with one blow…
In the height of their triumph, she sank in a silence that could not be fought or conquered. The cause had been delivered and served to those who must be avenged. What was now the point of living?
Strange, bad,scary, my, he,family,love,kind,good,mood,clever,evrika
Anabel fought with her boyfriend but this was any fight, this was about her daughter, his stepdaughter. She thought he would understand about the bond between daughter and mother but clearly he didn’t. He didn’t understand that her daughter was sick and needed her more and that broke her heart like crazy. Why wouldn’t he understand that?
Looking to see what internally is the truth. The constant battles of the mind can overwhelm the existence of today as it is consistently overshadowed with negativity. Merging into the new existence is an necessity as only God’s truth can really reveal. He fought for my life and He continues to fight now.
And she fought with everyone.. mostly herself. she fought to stay happy. she fought the feelings of despair and desperation. the only option she had was to pretend to be happy. the second she gave up that fight, she feared everyone would be disappear.
They fought all the time. He could never stop them and he probably wouldn’t if he was given the opportunity. They were, after all, fighting over him.
She for love, and he for his safety, they fought over this small child for a very long time. And the boy knew the fighting would only end when one of them was dead.
I fought for what we had, but him, he seemed to care less, always too busy with his friends and or just completely stolid towards me. He was never able to fully let go of himself and completely fall for me. There were constant walls with him. All I needed to see was that he was willing to rely, lean on, and need me in his life, yet I felt that that would never happen. I’ve tried so many times to get him to let me in. It’s just to the point that being stuck on the outside is cruel punishment, slowly and torturously breaking my heart.
to the last splinter
the final crumb of pigment
my coloured pencil
went into combat
conquered white lands
died a stub
after a colourful life
He fought to keep his children but it just wasn’t to be. Even though she was a bad mother she was still allowed custody.
I fought my way through the crowded area… I had to get to the front! I knew it was happening, I closed my eyes, not being able to bare the thought of what I will see when I get there.
one day i got tired of playing pretend
so i let my guts spill
they ripped through my solar plexus
and tumbled onto the pavement
and everybody stopped and stared
because they had never seen anything stranger
They had never had a big, major fight. They only argued about the tiniest of things, and every time, each would be forgiven after their apologies. Yet, they still drifted apart. Without warning, without a reason, they never spoke to each other again.
Fighting was not something they usually did. They were both rational individuals, they could talk things out before it escalated into a fight.
Then why were they sitting in separate rooms, dining at separate tables, living in separate houses?
They fought like animals, spitting words like they were venom and practically clawing each other to death. Her eyes were wide as she watched them start again for the third time that evening.
“Are you sure they’ll be ok alone together?”
He looked at her sideways, then snickered. “Oh, they’ll be more than just ok. Ten bucks says they’ll be making out again within ten minutes.”
Double, double, toil and trouble! Fire BURN and cauldron bubble!
Yes, do that part. The Three Witches. It’s perfect for you.
My sister and I fought a lot when we were younger, but now we agreed on most things.
Each day is a struggle for sanity.
Alarms sound like battle horns
blinds draw like swords
words strike like daggers
glares pierce like bullets
and your hatred explodes like falling bombs.
You thunder through like rumbling tanks
rapid-fire machine guns ready
I am your target
you take aim
I duck
but not well enough.
I patch up my wounds
with shattered confidence
and a depleting supply of hope
and courage
Enough courage for tomorrow
and tomorrow’s tomorrow.
And all the tomorrows
added up and compiled
will never be enough
to fix all my yesterdays
and erase all my mistakes
like meeting you.
Because every day is a struggle for sanity
a tipping scale of diminishing returns
a carefully balance three legged chair
And you are the wind
threatening to topple me over
with your breath.
Each day is a struggle for sanity
and I dread the day
that “fight” becomes “fought”.
They fought harder that day than anyone before them had. Men and women cried as they listened to news broadcasts of how many had died. Jenkins just thought of how he had to make it up this next hill. Moving one foot in front of the other had never been this difficult before. The pack on his back dug into his shoulders and cut into his lower back.
I fought. I fought like a soldier on a plain, losing the vision of him. I fought, quietly, diligently like a loyal following of this utopia.
Fighting. Screaming at the top of your lungs. The air was barely seeping in. I had no chance of survival you were slowly killing me though this fight. I had no idea how powerful you were. I had no idea that you could control me.
We fought all day. About absolutely nothing. It was stupid. I had never heard of such madness. It was like he had just completely died inside and I was talking to a lifeless body. He never acted this way toward me. I didn’t understand.
I had fought with my brother many times, and yet I didn’t want to lift a finger against him now. Not while he was in the hospital bed, white sheets and all, everything pearly and sterile and way too bright for my liking. The tubes, snaking together in large, unfriendly coils, did not help the mood either, and I set the flowers down carefully as if worried I’d break something in the room.
“My least favorite plants,” my brother grunted. “You’re an asshole.”
I smiled, eyes watering – because of the flowers, I told myself. “I know.”
We fought like animals underneath the blazing sun. I had enough of our fights. He would smack me around thinking that he had a hold of me. Our petty fights were putting a strain on our relationship. I knew that our five year old son had begun to notice it too.
She fought her feelings for a long, long time but she couldn’t fight them any longer. She was in love and she was finally happy.