today i bird was killed because it went in front of a car… i remember in my truck i killed five birds at ones, i felt so bad because i love animals… poor birds
you killed it. you left it in the street. you hit it with your car. you put it out on the clothesline to dry. and it did. it dried up into a raisin. and absolutely no one likes raisns. well except me.
she was murdered in the middle of the road on a blustery day in the month of march, the owls hooting and the cicadas chirping as her last breaths trickled from between her moistened lips. the street lights flickered on this side of town, and it was the cliche midnight hour when her heart ceased to beat.
And then he killed him. That was it. In that split second that it took to pull the trigger, he had stolen something he could never, ever return to that man. No amount of time in prison could make up for it. No money paid could repay it. He had taken the man’s life.
I never want to be killed in a random shooting incident such as a drive-by shooting or a stick-up by someone who wants my purse. I can’t imagine something so senseless and impersonal as this type of random act of violence. It would make me so sad to know that my family had to endure not only the sadness of my death, but the senseless of a random killing as well.
He’d killed her. He hadn’t been thinking about it. But then, suddenly, she was there, lying in his arms. Her eyes lifelessly staring up at him, her hair falling down and brushing his arm.
And it killed her. To know that he was right there, just a breath away from her, and that -still- she would never be able to have him. Because it wasn’t meant to be. It would never be meant to be, and knowing that killed her.
I have been haunted with dreams my whole life of having killed someone and looking for a place to bury the body. All the rationalization that goes on in my head about how I’m going to get away with it.
It just about killed her when she lost her wedding ring in the ocean. It was the one that once belonged to her great grandmother. There was no possible way for her to replace it. Her husband did try to console her.
i don’t understand why anything ever has to be killed. we are all equal to each other, no matter our size, we are all life and what life was created to be. i contain no more life than a small bug or huge animal. life is not measured in blood, or muscle. life is measured in what we do and what we are, and how we prosper. we are all equals. every living thing.
i can’t use your apologies
they do nothing for me
but i can give you some back in return
for thoughts of being unfaithful to you
for times of doubt
flourishing in my mind
time
and time
again
maybe you can use them
tattered ‘sorry’ rags
maybe they can help
to clean up our mess
I’m returning your party favors
I have no use for times of “I’m sorry”
because I know that look in your eyes
all too well
killings happen in there
veins become whips and spark like electric wires
war of emotions
i know
how could i hurt you so
i can say i didn’t mean to
but I’m sure you have enough tattered ‘sorry’ rags
and I’m no longer there to create a mess
killings happened in those gold-green eyes
this is the last one
i promise
for all the promises you broke
i recycle these
Her soul was gone. Her hope was forgotten. Although she may still walk this earth with a fake smile and a face full of laughter, inside of her is dead. There’s nothing left but an empty space where her heart used to be…
He didn’t know this, but when he left her, he killed her.
Losing you killed me. Knowing you married someone else killed me. Why did you pretend to love me? Why did you make me think you cared? Why couldn’t I be the one? I hate you now. I hope she leaves you.
I once killed a man. it wasn’t that hard to really perform the act, just a little mentally concerning after, but who doesn’t have those situations that boggle the mind. eventually over time, those feelings will go away. it’ll be like it never happened.
His imagination was killed. Everything that had once motivated, and inspired was gone for all eternity into the abyss of what might how been. It was a shame, really, watching as he slowly realized how much he had lost in his ongoing fight to keep everything he had just the way it was now. I don’t pity him now though, knowing that he hasn’t slept in ages from the pressure he had put on himself. It was his fault. And anyways, he had lost his imagination. All he had to do was find a new one. That’s not that hard to do, is it?
My uncle killed my father. In cold blood, a shot to the head. My fathers eyes rolled in the back of his head, and his body fell like stone to the floor. No life or soul left. His kids would never say hello to him again. My uncle had killed his own brother. Flesh and blood. Genes and Heritage. He had broken that bond. A bond sacred over all others. And then he tried to cover it up as a suicide. Like a coward. Hiding in his own fear, of his own actions.
I never understood why he wanted everyone but me. But day after day, month after month he was breaking my heart as he explored my best friends minds. But he never wanted me because I wasn’t broken and he couldn’t fix me. But then he broke me and I had to fix myself.
the joy was killed for me when the girl in the red dress fell off the swing. she landed with a sound like sticks breaking and everything stopped. the wind stopped whispering through the trees, the children stopped laughing, and the sun dimmed in sadness.
i have been killed, and i dont know by whom. maybe it was my self, for i was dead in life for long tome before i knew it, so i thank whoever took the trouble. Life with its weary shadows is now far behind, and my journey through the stars has begun, ice will melt, rocks will burn, and soon ill be dust flying through space.
She killed her husband. I knew it. I could hear it in her voice when she spoke, I could see it in her eyes when she wept. Of course no one suspected her, at least nobody but me.
and then he got killed…what had happened was he had just bought the last muffin at the store. the psycho behind him wanted that last muffin though. the psycho drive behind him, till they reached his house. when he got out of the car, the psycho killed him and ate the muffin.
There it was killed on the road like nothing ever happened. No one cared. Trees die too, don’t we understand? The poor creature had so much to offer us. Air, happiness, peace. Ah beauty killed in a midst of the highway. There all alone. We are alone without our trees.
and then he got killed…what had happened was he had just bought the last muffin at the shop. the psycho who wanted that last muffin drove behind him until they got to his house. as he got out of his car, the psycho shot him and ate the muffin
It was killed. All of it. Buried within deposits of soil and steaming garbage. Buried along with the sand of drunken beaches and the moonshine of that morning. Buried with the scent of salt and the wonder of breath.
i killed that what i loved but in turn it killed me too. i want to kill this television but im scared i wont know what do to without it. i want to kill these recent memories but i know in the end they will teach me so much. i want to kill this alcoholism but again, im just plain scared and dont know what i would substitute for it in the end.
It killed me, it really did, to think that’s what become of our friendship. And it was my fault, I’m the one who let things go, but he’s the one who pushed things too far in the first place.
I was. A total death. Failure. The ultimate sacrifice for nothingness. This is war and peace and age and love. A nostalgia. A perversion. Without life we must accept.
After. Disaster strikes. Your worst fears have come true, death has arrived. It is not the death you can heal from. Usually, they have been taken . . .
I saw the cat in the road. I walked up saying, “What have you gone and done now?” Although i didn’t expect an answer I would have like to hear, ” I am just here resting!”
The sound of voice cannot be heard behind these ears. In fact, the only vibrations they feel is the distant tremor of a heart’s echo. If there is a god, I’m sure he won’t find me. If there isn’t, good riddance.
jesus was said to have killed a man when he was in 20’s. apparently, the jesus between 13-28 was kinda like an asshole. he was a self centered jerk, was violent and a whole bunch of other things that make up and asshole.
Tossing and turning,
Blinking then screaming.
I don’t know where she went.
But she’ll come back soon.
Even as I stare at the noose they hung me by,
I know you’ll come back to save me.
Even if my body is gone.
We can still make it.
I love you twin.
She looked at the blood all over the floor. Asking herself, “Who is that girl?”. A man laughed and shoved a knife at the body’s chest. She screamed, but there was no reaction. The dead girl… Was herself.
Video killed the radio star. Apparently. But no one really knows. There were no eye witnesses, so it’s all hearsay as far as I can tell. Though I can’t really tell much.
I killed my child’s love for bottles and now he is the happiest kid alive! What will be killed next, I don’t know maybe his pacifier!!!!
today i bird was killed because it went in front of a car… i remember in my truck i killed five birds at ones, i felt so bad because i love animals… poor birds
i killed him. it wasn’t him it was me, and i’m sorry. i couldn’t control myself….. he stole my cookies…..
don’t mess with a girls’ cookies okay
you killed it. you left it in the street. you hit it with your car. you put it out on the clothesline to dry. and it did. it dried up into a raisin. and absolutely no one likes raisns. well except me.
she was murdered in the middle of the road on a blustery day in the month of march, the owls hooting and the cicadas chirping as her last breaths trickled from between her moistened lips. the street lights flickered on this side of town, and it was the cliche midnight hour when her heart ceased to beat.
And then he killed him. That was it. In that split second that it took to pull the trigger, he had stolen something he could never, ever return to that man. No amount of time in prison could make up for it. No money paid could repay it. He had taken the man’s life.
I never want to be killed in a random shooting incident such as a drive-by shooting or a stick-up by someone who wants my purse. I can’t imagine something so senseless and impersonal as this type of random act of violence. It would make me so sad to know that my family had to endure not only the sadness of my death, but the senseless of a random killing as well.
He’d killed her. He hadn’t been thinking about it. But then, suddenly, she was there, lying in his arms. Her eyes lifelessly staring up at him, her hair falling down and brushing his arm.
And it killed her. To know that he was right there, just a breath away from her, and that -still- she would never be able to have him. Because it wasn’t meant to be. It would never be meant to be, and knowing that killed her.
I have been haunted with dreams my whole life of having killed someone and looking for a place to bury the body. All the rationalization that goes on in my head about how I’m going to get away with it.
It just about killed her when she lost her wedding ring in the ocean. It was the one that once belonged to her great grandmother. There was no possible way for her to replace it. Her husband did try to console her.
i don’t understand why anything ever has to be killed. we are all equal to each other, no matter our size, we are all life and what life was created to be. i contain no more life than a small bug or huge animal. life is not measured in blood, or muscle. life is measured in what we do and what we are, and how we prosper. we are all equals. every living thing.
i can’t use your apologies
they do nothing for me
but i can give you some back in return
for thoughts of being unfaithful to you
for times of doubt
flourishing in my mind
time
and time
again
maybe you can use them
tattered ‘sorry’ rags
maybe they can help
to clean up our mess
I’m returning your party favors
I have no use for times of “I’m sorry”
because I know that look in your eyes
all too well
killings happen in there
veins become whips and spark like electric wires
war of emotions
i know
how could i hurt you so
i can say i didn’t mean to
but I’m sure you have enough tattered ‘sorry’ rags
and I’m no longer there to create a mess
killings happened in those gold-green eyes
this is the last one
i promise
for all the promises you broke
i recycle these
I’m sorry
i killed your spirits…
Her soul was gone. Her hope was forgotten. Although she may still walk this earth with a fake smile and a face full of laughter, inside of her is dead. There’s nothing left but an empty space where her heart used to be…
He didn’t know this, but when he left her, he killed her.
Losing you killed me. Knowing you married someone else killed me. Why did you pretend to love me? Why did you make me think you cared? Why couldn’t I be the one? I hate you now. I hope she leaves you.
I once killed a man. it wasn’t that hard to really perform the act, just a little mentally concerning after, but who doesn’t have those situations that boggle the mind. eventually over time, those feelings will go away. it’ll be like it never happened.
His imagination was killed. Everything that had once motivated, and inspired was gone for all eternity into the abyss of what might how been. It was a shame, really, watching as he slowly realized how much he had lost in his ongoing fight to keep everything he had just the way it was now. I don’t pity him now though, knowing that he hasn’t slept in ages from the pressure he had put on himself. It was his fault. And anyways, he had lost his imagination. All he had to do was find a new one. That’s not that hard to do, is it?
My uncle killed my father. In cold blood, a shot to the head. My fathers eyes rolled in the back of his head, and his body fell like stone to the floor. No life or soul left. His kids would never say hello to him again. My uncle had killed his own brother. Flesh and blood. Genes and Heritage. He had broken that bond. A bond sacred over all others. And then he tried to cover it up as a suicide. Like a coward. Hiding in his own fear, of his own actions.
I never understood why he wanted everyone but me. But day after day, month after month he was breaking my heart as he explored my best friends minds. But he never wanted me because I wasn’t broken and he couldn’t fix me. But then he broke me and I had to fix myself.
the joy was killed for me when the girl in the red dress fell off the swing. she landed with a sound like sticks breaking and everything stopped. the wind stopped whispering through the trees, the children stopped laughing, and the sun dimmed in sadness.
i have been killed, and i dont know by whom. maybe it was my self, for i was dead in life for long tome before i knew it, so i thank whoever took the trouble. Life with its weary shadows is now far behind, and my journey through the stars has begun, ice will melt, rocks will burn, and soon ill be dust flying through space.
She killed her husband. I knew it. I could hear it in her voice when she spoke, I could see it in her eyes when she wept. Of course no one suspected her, at least nobody but me.
and then he got killed…what had happened was he had just bought the last muffin at the store. the psycho behind him wanted that last muffin though. the psycho drive behind him, till they reached his house. when he got out of the car, the psycho killed him and ate the muffin.
ive never experienced a tragic death. but sometimes being killed inside over and over can be almost as aweful.
There it was killed on the road like nothing ever happened. No one cared. Trees die too, don’t we understand? The poor creature had so much to offer us. Air, happiness, peace. Ah beauty killed in a midst of the highway. There all alone. We are alone without our trees.
and then he got killed…what had happened was he had just bought the last muffin at the shop. the psycho who wanted that last muffin drove behind him until they got to his house. as he got out of his car, the psycho shot him and ate the muffin
It was killed. All of it. Buried within deposits of soil and steaming garbage. Buried along with the sand of drunken beaches and the moonshine of that morning. Buried with the scent of salt and the wonder of breath.
i killed that what i loved but in turn it killed me too. i want to kill this television but im scared i wont know what do to without it. i want to kill these recent memories but i know in the end they will teach me so much. i want to kill this alcoholism but again, im just plain scared and dont know what i would substitute for it in the end.
It killed me, it really did, to think that’s what become of our friendship. And it was my fault, I’m the one who let things go, but he’s the one who pushed things too far in the first place.
I was. A total death. Failure. The ultimate sacrifice for nothingness. This is war and peace and age and love. A nostalgia. A perversion. Without life we must accept.
After. Disaster strikes. Your worst fears have come true, death has arrived. It is not the death you can heal from. Usually, they have been taken . . .
I saw the cat in the road. I walked up saying, “What have you gone and done now?” Although i didn’t expect an answer I would have like to hear, ” I am just here resting!”
The sound of voice cannot be heard behind these ears. In fact, the only vibrations they feel is the distant tremor of a heart’s echo. If there is a god, I’m sure he won’t find me. If there isn’t, good riddance.
They killed them. It was killed when we look at it. The rat was killed
I once had a dream that I was killed… supposedly that can’t happen. Ha!
You have looks that can kill.
After all, they killed your personality, destroyed your dignity, and quickly diminished your reputation the day you discovered this.
jesus was said to have killed a man when he was in 20’s. apparently, the jesus between 13-28 was kinda like an asshole. he was a self centered jerk, was violent and a whole bunch of other things that make up and asshole.
Tossing and turning,
Blinking then screaming.
I don’t know where she went.
But she’ll come back soon.
Even as I stare at the noose they hung me by,
I know you’ll come back to save me.
Even if my body is gone.
We can still make it.
I love you twin.
She looked at the blood all over the floor. Asking herself, “Who is that girl?”. A man laughed and shoved a knife at the body’s chest. She screamed, but there was no reaction. The dead girl… Was herself.
Video killed the radio star. Apparently. But no one really knows. There were no eye witnesses, so it’s all hearsay as far as I can tell. Though I can’t really tell much.