The corner of the street; dark; sketchy; a place where things happen, where life moves. Deathly, but lively. Grimy yet vividly exciting; a contradiction suitable to humanity. Humanity’s very grossities and contradictions coming to life in this one place: the corner. Underhand deals, exchanges, what not; all in the corner.
There was a corner in the room, well of course there was. It was where I always sat as a child, it was a fond memory, I met so many people there, they’d all long since gone. My imaginary friends.
He is a regular at the local corner store, always stopping in to have a chat with the young men that work there. He has a skip in his step, like he is floating. Light on his feet as I would describe it.
i find myself back in this corner
where all the bad thoughts find me
and swarm around menacingly in my head, tormenting me
sometimes they can be persistent, sometimes they simply breeze away without much effort
maybe saved by a friend or a nice cool breeze rustling through the tangled trees
but other times they are more persistent in their attempts to bring you as low as it is possible to go. in those times you feel like you’re clinging to a sharp, scraggly rock in the middle of the ocean, with wave upon wave smashing down on you. each wave brings another insecurity, each wave brings another layer of fear. stranded, a wreck, only a ship can save me, to rescue me from my desolation and take me back to happiness, to colour. how i long for that ship. it’s too grey to bear right now.
I’m in the corner of the room, stuck between walls and emptiness.
It’s like relationships, you’re stuck between a person and your feelings with nowhere to go.
I’m too in love to leave, and all this relationship does is make me either angry or sad, and maybe 10% happy. It’s depressing, it’s my own personal corner that I’ve painted myself into.
I love to read in the winter, when I’m sitting at the fire and the world is closed out to me. I read and go into myself, listening to my thoughts as the play with the words on the page,drawing out meanings and searching for connections. Seeking answers and not caring that they are found.
She stood in the corner awaiting her demise. A long slend sword was pulled from behind her and placed at the side of her neck. If only she had known that her love would be betrayed. if only she had known he would kill her.
i went down to the market on the corner to pick up a sack of rocks for my garden. They were specialty rocks that makes the garden grow quicker without water, sun and especially don’t have to talk to them!
I sit! I sit here all by my lonesome. Not quiet lonely, but alone. It gives so much comfort to have walls, and see exactly what you’re working with…exactly what confines you, and traps you, and keeps you in a corner. Freedom is so scary sometimes.
This is mine,my one little cornrer.A small piece of the world,its just mine.Sometimes it seems to look out on endless possibilities.A vast field, ever growing and ever changing. Sometimes its gray and isolated,the shadows looming and oppressive bearing down untill im huddeled in my cornrer.My little piece of the world.where its mine,all mine
There is one in every room, four to be exact, well most of the time. Sometimes, there can be more but that is just a weird shaped room, isn’t it? It’s cool though I like corners, like the corner of mouths that I kiss.
there is a house on the corner and it is big. it is ryan’s house. they are loud and i can always hear them yelling in the back yard. There are corners of many things. One time i got a bruise on my leg from the corner of the counter. A corner is when two edges meet. Corner corner corner. Corner kicks, corner back.
He sat on the corner. Alone and sad. A distant sadness filled me up. I didn’t know what to do. He looked filled to the brim with difficulty and I couldn’t bring myself to think about all the horrible things he’s probably been through.
I live in my own little corner. No one is allowed to come in. it’s where i can be free. it’s where i can be me.
i love it here
i feel complete
i want to stay here forever
but i know that it will get extremely lonely and that will suck
so i have to leave my corner
and find my soulmate
and find my life
on the corner of the street I saw a man sitting and he wasn’t doing much at all, so I thought it would be funny to go and poke him in the eye. he didn’t find this as funny as I did, so instead of laughing hysterically like myself, he swiftly kicked me in the nuts. he then found the hilarity in the fact that we were standing on a street corner laughing about random things that no one understood.
in the corner of my room i have twenty seven bottles of blue water. why the water is blue is a very good question. if you know the answer please tell me. if i don’t find out about the blue water i shall die.
I sat in the corner, meek and afraid, worried that one day, someone would know my secret. I guess it doesn’t matter anymore. Someone finally found out, and he didn’t care. He loves me anyway. That’s fine. But I still like having my own little corner to run back to sometimes.
in the corner of my room there is a flamingo. it sits there atop of its one extended leg, and stares at me with his evil eye. i wonder if it had the ability to stand on both of its legs if it would come and attack me. because it sure looks like he wants to now.
I walked to the corner of the street. There a saw a lady. I wondered if she wished to sing with me. She left shortly afterwards. I stood at the corner trying to decide where to go. Everything was weighed equally. each a fourth of a chance. David Smith. Dsmitty2010@gmail.com
um crying in a corner from ms sorenson but then you get used to her. sitting in a feetle position this is weird i dont know what to write about corners like the corner of a paper or something white paper? theres nothing to SAY DAMMIT.
at the corner of the street i saw him playing a guitar.he was not handsome yet there was something very attractive about him.i asked him his name.he said he did not have one.
And he bled, slightly groggy in the corner as she stood above him, knife still held aloft. “So it was you, after all,” he murmured, eyes unfocused. She said nothing, only watched as the last moments of life were drained from him by her own hands. “Tell her… tell Holly… I… tell her I’m sorry.”
on the corner I stand watching the people walking by. Are they oblivious to me standing there? What are they thinking of as they go about their business? Do they have any idea of the loneliness that I feel even as I stand in the midst of them on this corner?
She pressed herself as deep into the corner of the room as she could, molding her bony frame against painted plaster, screaming, eyes squeezed shut, shadowed. THe corner
in a corner she sat crying about herm mothers battle with alcohol. she didn’t ahve enought time to even put the cat out. the corner was a place oif dsolittude for her. only she sat there when the sky darkened and her dad left for years but never came back even for a second. she pausedd as she stared at where he should be
i live in baltimore currently, where the word corner means what you think it means when you’re in the “drug world”, but if you live in a house there, it’s oh
In the corner, there was this little bear. The little bear had a smile on his face. His owner was going to come home today. Sure enough, seconds later, the door opened and a small child barrelled through it, their arms open wide.
There was a small corner. The same corner that he always found himself in whenever he was in these situations. His life was shit. Plain and simple. Usually whenever he came to this conculsion there was always some semblance of hope about it. But no, this time was different. This time it really was shit. This time
I was sitting in the corner, wondering what I had done wrong. Sitting, waiting, wishing. Wishing I could escape from him. From my stepfather. So I dreamed. I dreamed of a castle in a forbidden forest.
The corner wanted so bad to be something other than it was. Somewhere in the world people loved circles and curves, but the little corner was stuck in his own sharpness and harshness. The little corner was alone… and it was sad.
We’re like that little corner. We want to be more than we are.
Corner. Pointy. Sharp. The corner of a table is where my piggy bank sits. It’s also what I usually hit my toe on. Makes me scream, and that isn’t fun. Cinderella is in the corner of my cabinet.
Corner. Don’t corner me. Let me move at my own pace and do what I need to according to intuition and love rather than what is expected and wanted by you and others.
The corner of the street; dark; sketchy; a place where things happen, where life moves. Deathly, but lively. Grimy yet vividly exciting; a contradiction suitable to humanity. Humanity’s very grossities and contradictions coming to life in this one place: the corner. Underhand deals, exchanges, what not; all in the corner.
There was a corner in the room, well of course there was. It was where I always sat as a child, it was a fond memory, I met so many people there, they’d all long since gone. My imaginary friends.
He is a regular at the local corner store, always stopping in to have a chat with the young men that work there. He has a skip in his step, like he is floating. Light on his feet as I would describe it.
i find myself back in this corner
where all the bad thoughts find me
and swarm around menacingly in my head, tormenting me
sometimes they can be persistent, sometimes they simply breeze away without much effort
maybe saved by a friend or a nice cool breeze rustling through the tangled trees
but other times they are more persistent in their attempts to bring you as low as it is possible to go. in those times you feel like you’re clinging to a sharp, scraggly rock in the middle of the ocean, with wave upon wave smashing down on you. each wave brings another insecurity, each wave brings another layer of fear. stranded, a wreck, only a ship can save me, to rescue me from my desolation and take me back to happiness, to colour. how i long for that ship. it’s too grey to bear right now.
I’m in the corner of the room, stuck between walls and emptiness.
It’s like relationships, you’re stuck between a person and your feelings with nowhere to go.
I’m too in love to leave, and all this relationship does is make me either angry or sad, and maybe 10% happy. It’s depressing, it’s my own personal corner that I’ve painted myself into.
I should just bear it.
roudnding the corner, smooth edges. what the heck is going on. testing, testing, tasting.
I love to read in the winter, when I’m sitting at the fire and the world is closed out to me. I read and go into myself, listening to my thoughts as the play with the words on the page,drawing out meanings and searching for connections. Seeking answers and not caring that they are found.
the corner of a room.
perks of being a wallflower.
no one dances with the person in the corner but its the best vantage point for watching everyone else dance badly.
corners are good, squares have corners.
squares are boring people, the kind you find in corners.
She stood in the corner awaiting her demise. A long slend sword was pulled from behind her and placed at the side of her neck. If only she had known that her love would be betrayed. if only she had known he would kill her.
It did it correctly that time.
Yay.
Corners are blades made of wood, designed to hurt the body.
i went down to the market on the corner to pick up a sack of rocks for my garden. They were specialty rocks that makes the garden grow quicker without water, sun and especially don’t have to talk to them!
Tag test.
I want to see if this will tag this post with the name ahead of it, because thats what happened to my post.
Corners are horrible. They show the end of something.
Why would anyone want to think about the end?
That’s just terrible. Always look on the bright side, don’t be afraid to not be afraid.
I sit! I sit here all by my lonesome. Not quiet lonely, but alone. It gives so much comfort to have walls, and see exactly what you’re working with…exactly what confines you, and traps you, and keeps you in a corner. Freedom is so scary sometimes.
This is mine,my one little cornrer.A small piece of the world,its just mine.Sometimes it seems to look out on endless possibilities.A vast field, ever growing and ever changing. Sometimes its gray and isolated,the shadows looming and oppressive bearing down untill im huddeled in my cornrer.My little piece of the world.where its mine,all mine
There is one in every room, four to be exact, well most of the time. Sometimes, there can be more but that is just a weird shaped room, isn’t it? It’s cool though I like corners, like the corner of mouths that I kiss.
there is a house on the corner and it is big. it is ryan’s house. they are loud and i can always hear them yelling in the back yard. There are corners of many things. One time i got a bruise on my leg from the corner of the counter. A corner is when two edges meet. Corner corner corner. Corner kicks, corner back.
I was on the corner of the street.
Corners are edged.
Edges hurt like cuts from a knife.
I don’t type fast enough, anyways, moving on.
Cuts from a knife hurt, but not nearly as much as a heartbreak.
I’m cornered by this time limit.
Fuck.
He sat on the corner. Alone and sad. A distant sadness filled me up. I didn’t know what to do. He looked filled to the brim with difficulty and I couldn’t bring myself to think about all the horrible things he’s probably been through.
I live in my own little corner. No one is allowed to come in. it’s where i can be free. it’s where i can be me.
i love it here
i feel complete
i want to stay here forever
but i know that it will get extremely lonely and that will suck
so i have to leave my corner
and find my soulmate
and find my life
on the corner of the street I saw a man sitting and he wasn’t doing much at all, so I thought it would be funny to go and poke him in the eye. he didn’t find this as funny as I did, so instead of laughing hysterically like myself, he swiftly kicked me in the nuts. he then found the hilarity in the fact that we were standing on a street corner laughing about random things that no one understood.
in the corner of my room i have twenty seven bottles of blue water. why the water is blue is a very good question. if you know the answer please tell me. if i don’t find out about the blue water i shall die.
I sat in the corner, meek and afraid, worried that one day, someone would know my secret. I guess it doesn’t matter anymore. Someone finally found out, and he didn’t care. He loves me anyway. That’s fine. But I still like having my own little corner to run back to sometimes.
in the corner of my room there is a flamingo. it sits there atop of its one extended leg, and stares at me with his evil eye. i wonder if it had the ability to stand on both of its legs if it would come and attack me. because it sure looks like he wants to now.
I walked to the corner of the street. There a saw a lady. I wondered if she wished to sing with me. She left shortly afterwards. I stood at the corner trying to decide where to go. Everything was weighed equally. each a fourth of a chance. David Smith. Dsmitty2010@gmail.com
um crying in a corner from ms sorenson but then you get used to her. sitting in a feetle position this is weird i dont know what to write about corners like the corner of a paper or something white paper? theres nothing to SAY DAMMIT.
at the corner of the street i saw him playing a guitar.he was not handsome yet there was something very attractive about him.i asked him his name.he said he did not have one.
meeting friends to catch the bus for a night out without worries, laughing later at some of the bus characters
And he bled, slightly groggy in the corner as she stood above him, knife still held aloft. “So it was you, after all,” he murmured, eyes unfocused. She said nothing, only watched as the last moments of life were drained from him by her own hands. “Tell her… tell Holly… I… tell her I’m sorry.”
on the corner I stand watching the people walking by. Are they oblivious to me standing there? What are they thinking of as they go about their business? Do they have any idea of the loneliness that I feel even as I stand in the midst of them on this corner?
She pressed herself as deep into the corner of the room as she could, molding her bony frame against painted plaster, screaming, eyes squeezed shut, shadowed. THe corner
in the corners of my mind hide all my fears, anxieties, wishes, and sometimes hope. i feel cornered by my failings. i feel cornered by my past.
in a corner she sat crying about herm mothers battle with alcohol. she didn’t ahve enought time to even put the cat out. the corner was a place oif dsolittude for her. only she sat there when the sky darkened and her dad left for years but never came back even for a second. she pausedd as she stared at where he should be
i live in baltimore currently, where the word corner means what you think it means when you’re in the “drug world”, but if you live in a house there, it’s oh
In the corner, there was this little bear. The little bear had a smile on his face. His owner was going to come home today. Sure enough, seconds later, the door opened and a small child barrelled through it, their arms open wide.
Isn’t it nice to be loved?
There was a small corner. The same corner that he always found himself in whenever he was in these situations. His life was shit. Plain and simple. Usually whenever he came to this conculsion there was always some semblance of hope about it. But no, this time was different. This time it really was shit. This time
I was sitting in the corner, wondering what I had done wrong. Sitting, waiting, wishing. Wishing I could escape from him. From my stepfather. So I dreamed. I dreamed of a castle in a forbidden forest.
The corner wanted so bad to be something other than it was. Somewhere in the world people loved circles and curves, but the little corner was stuck in his own sharpness and harshness. The little corner was alone… and it was sad.
We’re like that little corner. We want to be more than we are.
Corner. Pointy. Sharp. The corner of a table is where my piggy bank sits. It’s also what I usually hit my toe on. Makes me scream, and that isn’t fun. Cinderella is in the corner of my cabinet.
Focal point of fear. That kind of explains why vertex nature is not willing to produce doubt or questioning.
Corner. Don’t corner me. Let me move at my own pace and do what I need to according to intuition and love rather than what is expected and wanted by you and others.