That bracelet. Oh that bracelet. It was the only thing that he had ever given me. He may have been cute, sure, but when he gave that bracelet, oh that bracelet. He was so sweet. You know, maybe I had made a mistake. He was the right one. “Wait! Don’t leave!” I shouted after him, “I’ve made a huge mistake!”
I have you around my wrist like a bracelet. I put you on and take you off like my favorite bracelet. I have you eating at the palm of my hand. It is where I like you to be and will always be. Never will you be able to hang near my heart like a necklace.
A stone cold bracelet
stuck in the waste-bin
on the side of the New York
street corner. No one gave
it a second glance.
No one found it near the
edge. No one cared
about the bracelet.
What they didn’t know
is the bracelet was diamond.
I have a bracelet
It is rubbish
Since I am a boy
So I gave it to my sister
She wasn’t pleased that I had it first
Then I got a bracelet again
Why why why
Now I have to give another one to my sister
My life with bracelets is pretty hard
One day a girl went to the jewellerey store and was looking for a bracelet, she saw one fabulous looking bracelet that had gold and silver around it, she bought it and took it home, she wore it everyday and loved it, sadly she lost it one day, but her mother bought her a new one, she was very happy after that. The End
The bracelet is tight around the girl’s wrist as she powers up her courage. She turns the doorknob and allows herself into the shaded bedroom, a terrified heart pounding behind her chest. Her throat warms as she rounds the corner, acknowledging the whimpers emerging from the closet.
The girl puts her small hand on the door, breathing breaths of ice as she eases it open. She stares down at her sister, who is huddled in the corner, shielded partially by the baggy, dark clothes handing up.
The first girl, the young one with the black curls, slips the bracelet off of her cold skin. She kneels down, neither child speaking, and fastens it around her sister’s wrist. The moment the crisp click sounds, the black-haired girl’s skin dulls and her hair grays, drifting out of her head and onto the hardwood floor.
The young child’s lips thin and her hands wrinkle. She crawls to replace her sister’s spot in the cold corner. Her sister has straight, ruby red hair now, and her cheeks are rosy with youth and health. Her long curled lashes blink at the generous girl and her skin glows as she leaves the closet. She closes the door, the coldness sparking her skin, and whispers,
“Thank you,”
as she shuts the door. The whimpers resume, but now from the other.
Some times when you have a bracelet on you don’t feel the cold steel it’s like Jesus you don’t always feel him or see him but he is always watching over you no matter what you have done he will watch over you no matter what you have done wrong he will always forgive you if you are sincere about asking forgiveness Jesus will always love you and as weird as this may sound I love too
And remember Jesus took your place on the cross for your sins because he loves you
you broke me. you stretched me too far apart and now i’m on the floor… i’m scattered and i cant put myself back together. you broke me and you don’t even care. you have your money so what does it matter. you can get as many as you want. to you i’m like all the other ones. replaceable.
The bracelet glittered on her wrist but snagged her skin as she yanked it off. SHe flexed her quivering fingers before resting them lightly on the keys. Her mind was suddenly filled with the pulsing of her heart, overriding common sense.
The bracelet is tight around the girl’s wrist as she powers up her courage. She turns the doorknob and allows herself into the shaded bedroom, a terrified heart pounding behind her chest. Her throat warms as she rounds the corner, acknowledging the whimpers emerging from the closet.
The girl puts her small hand on the door, breathing breaths of ice as she eases it open. She stares down at her sister, who is huddled in the corner, shielded partially by the baggy, dark clothes handing up.
The first girl, the young one with the black curls, slips the bracelet off of her cold skin. She kneels down, neither child speaking, and fastens it around her sister’s wrist. The moment the crisp click sounds, the black-haired girl’s skin dulls and her hair grays, drifting out of her head and onto the hardwood floor.
The young child’s lips thin and her hands wrinkle. She crawls to replace her sister’s spot in the cold corner. Her sister has straight, ruby red hair now, and her cheeks are rosy with youth and health. Her long curled lashes blink at the generous girl and her skin glows as she leaves the closet. She closes the door, the coldness sparking her skin, and whispers,
“Thank you,”
as she shuts the door. The whimpers resume, but now from the other.
you broke me. you stretched me too far apart and now i’m on the floor… i’m scattered and i cant put myself back together. you broke me and you don’t even care. you have your money so what does it matter. you can get as many as you want. to you i’m like all the other ones. i’m… replaceable
The pearls gleamed back at me, beacons of light in the shadows of darkness. They symbolize what can be, or rather what could be. If I had my choice. If I was free. They circle my bracelet in a chain that keeps me from everything that I could hope to accomplish. A snare.
something that goes around your wrist. diamonds or jewels. something beautiful and given to you by someone special. someone kind. someone interesting. when you look at it it makes you smile.
That bracelet. Oh that bracelet. It was the only thing that he had ever given me. He may have been cute, sure, but when he gave that bracelet, oh that bracelet. He was so sweet. You know, maybe I had made a mistake. He was the right one. “Wait! Don’t leave!” I shouted after him, “I’ve made a huge mistake!”
I have you around my wrist like a bracelet. I put you on and take you off like my favorite bracelet. I have you eating at the palm of my hand. It is where I like you to be and will always be. Never will you be able to hang near my heart like a necklace.
the bracelets pile up, dull rainbows covering vivid scars. its become a chore to breathe without shuddering.
A stone cold bracelet
stuck in the waste-bin
on the side of the New York
street corner. No one gave
it a second glance.
No one found it near the
edge. No one cared
about the bracelet.
What they didn’t know
is the bracelet was diamond.
I have a bracelet
It is rubbish
Since I am a boy
So I gave it to my sister
She wasn’t pleased that I had it first
Then I got a bracelet again
Why why why
Now I have to give another one to my sister
My life with bracelets is pretty hard
I ahve lots of them i love them they are cool and SWAG and people use it to trend on them.
One day a girl went to the jewellerey store and was looking for a bracelet, she saw one fabulous looking bracelet that had gold and silver around it, she bought it and took it home, she wore it everyday and loved it, sadly she lost it one day, but her mother bought her a new one, she was very happy after that. The End
Normaly bracelets in the jewelry store are very espensive and sometimes in other places it is very cheap like $2 for plastic ones.
The bracelet is tight around the girl’s wrist as she powers up her courage. She turns the doorknob and allows herself into the shaded bedroom, a terrified heart pounding behind her chest. Her throat warms as she rounds the corner, acknowledging the whimpers emerging from the closet.
The girl puts her small hand on the door, breathing breaths of ice as she eases it open. She stares down at her sister, who is huddled in the corner, shielded partially by the baggy, dark clothes handing up.
The first girl, the young one with the black curls, slips the bracelet off of her cold skin. She kneels down, neither child speaking, and fastens it around her sister’s wrist. The moment the crisp click sounds, the black-haired girl’s skin dulls and her hair grays, drifting out of her head and onto the hardwood floor.
The young child’s lips thin and her hands wrinkle. She crawls to replace her sister’s spot in the cold corner. Her sister has straight, ruby red hair now, and her cheeks are rosy with youth and health. Her long curled lashes blink at the generous girl and her skin glows as she leaves the closet. She closes the door, the coldness sparking her skin, and whispers,
“Thank you,”
as she shuts the door. The whimpers resume, but now from the other.
Some times when you have a bracelet on you don’t feel the cold steel it’s like Jesus you don’t always feel him or see him but he is always watching over you no matter what you have done he will watch over you no matter what you have done wrong he will always forgive you if you are sincere about asking forgiveness Jesus will always love you and as weird as this may sound I love too
And remember Jesus took your place on the cross for your sins because he loves you
My sister came home from Spain with a beautiful bracelet
A bracelet is a circular piece of jewellery
you broke me. you stretched me too far apart and now i’m on the floor… i’m scattered and i cant put myself back together. you broke me and you don’t even care. you have your money so what does it matter. you can get as many as you want. to you i’m like all the other ones. replaceable.
The bracelet glittered on her wrist but snagged her skin as she yanked it off. SHe flexed her quivering fingers before resting them lightly on the keys. Her mind was suddenly filled with the pulsing of her heart, overriding common sense.
The bracelet is tight around the girl’s wrist as she powers up her courage. She turns the doorknob and allows herself into the shaded bedroom, a terrified heart pounding behind her chest. Her throat warms as she rounds the corner, acknowledging the whimpers emerging from the closet.
The girl puts her small hand on the door, breathing breaths of ice as she eases it open. She stares down at her sister, who is huddled in the corner, shielded partially by the baggy, dark clothes handing up.
The first girl, the young one with the black curls, slips the bracelet off of her cold skin. She kneels down, neither child speaking, and fastens it around her sister’s wrist. The moment the crisp click sounds, the black-haired girl’s skin dulls and her hair grays, drifting out of her head and onto the hardwood floor.
The young child’s lips thin and her hands wrinkle. She crawls to replace her sister’s spot in the cold corner. Her sister has straight, ruby red hair now, and her cheeks are rosy with youth and health. Her long curled lashes blink at the generous girl and her skin glows as she leaves the closet. She closes the door, the coldness sparking her skin, and whispers,
“Thank you,”
as she shuts the door. The whimpers resume, but now from the other.
you broke me. you stretched me too far apart and now i’m on the floor… i’m scattered and i cant put myself back together. you broke me and you don’t even care. you have your money so what does it matter. you can get as many as you want. to you i’m like all the other ones. i’m… replaceable
The pearls gleamed back at me, beacons of light in the shadows of darkness. They symbolize what can be, or rather what could be. If I had my choice. If I was free. They circle my bracelet in a chain that keeps me from everything that I could hope to accomplish. A snare.
something that goes around your wrist. diamonds or jewels. something beautiful and given to you by someone special. someone kind. someone interesting. when you look at it it makes you smile.