Pushed to one side, she lost her balance. She felt a knee hitting her hard in the face, and fell to the ground. Feet trampled on her, as the screams rose around her. She tried to raise herself up to a kneeling position, but others in the scrum stepped on her hands, and pushed her down to the ground. Gritting her teeth, she pushed back, and clawed her way up the very legs that had just stepped on her. After queueing for nine hours, she was going to shake Justin’s hand no matter what it took!
He scratched his knee and, for whatever reason, it made me want to slap him. I’m not a violent person but everything about him just then, the tiny mustache, the way he never stopped moving, and stupid hat all made me want to swat at him and tell him to go away. To never come back. But instead I said. “Cool. That’s cool.”
i looked at my knee torn and scuffed but every injury remind me of the love i had for the world. from the salt in the sea to cleanse my wounded knee to the wood chips on the play ground I saw a little piece of the places ive been.
There was a dull pain in my knee, and when I rolled up the leg of my jeans, I stared at the spread of blood beneath the denim. It had not seeped through the fabric, but it was staining my skin in a web-like pattern, not seeming to be emerging from any scrape, gut, or gash. As I stared at the tattoo-like carnage on my patella, I began to feel a strange shivering sensation up and down my thigh. Suddenly, I could not walk. Suddenly, I could only kneel.
do you like my knee? said gus, oh wait idek if i have one wait no i defs dont have a knee LOL bc i only have 1 leg knee free i guess hahaha. no im soz bout your knee gus you rokstar but the best legends lIved without knees SORRY
knee how mow? sin hu chai lin hu fa so HAZEL se no GUS jidno funza mi HAZEL no no hi ret roo hirty garet lin po shi AUGUSTUS. bea us enfo chin ha recto lin po shi han hau mau shin aaYAYAYAYAYA knee of cur knee knee knee knee knee knee curryknee
Scraped knees where the most common thing that happen to me when I was growing up. Playing in the fields, cycling with my brothers. But that left scars even though It doesn’t hurt. same with the heart. Leaves scars even though its healed. .
I hit my knee so hard at my desk that I unknowingly winced. One of my students asked me if I was ok and I grimaced as I said yes. I hobbled throughout the rest of the day, trying my best to continue teaching.
Certain cultures find it socially unacceptable to see knees. Therefore, in preparing to travel to places which have that culture, I have to find things which at least reach my knee.
Tall girl problem #29: Things do not come to my knees. Period. They just don’t.
My knee hurts. I don’t know how. What am I doing when I got this wound? It was bleeding a little bit. I remember it hurting, but I didn’t notice the blood yet. Don’t worry, it will heal soon.
A little wound won’t go a long way. Ishould be really careful. Sometimes I don’t know where I get my wounds. Accidents happen, not like the big problems we all have.
Kel limped down the lonely market street. Her knee hadn’t healed right after she had thrown herself in front of the hurrok as it ran down her charges. She remembered the terror she felt as she watched it stamped toward the children. She smiled at Tobe waiting at the end of the lane. Every bit of pain was worth it. She had saved her son that day.
you can knee for some reason but the best thing is when you knee in front of your parents to thank them what they did to have all this ,so thanking them with kneeing in front of them is the best way to appreciate their work
so hard to fall on your knee in your life and you find that you are just dispointed of anything and you don not know what do you do however you have to keep on, tell me how could you do now?! it’s your time and how long you are waiting you are spending gold time…and the problem that you can not get up your knee are stuck in the floor….
I couldn’t stand it any more. Every time I was with him, i was sick. there was something about him that just wasn’t right. He was funny as all hell and kept me laughing the whole time. They weren’t just knee slappers, but actual gut wrenching funniness!
Many were the scars upon her knees… alot of folk in the area would cast judgement when she wore skirts and dresses, their minds filled with perversities and immoral behaviour; they didn’t know her past though, when she was younger, she lusted after the freedom gifted to her by a ride on a firm and reassuring companion, her motions enhanced by lubrication; she loved that skateboard dearly back then, but now, the gravel roads and rolling fields offered no solace, but for nature.
got the knee jerk reaction. no thinking no thought just write a poem. his knee knocked against mine. and then we spoke. he spoke words with a slight accent I could not place. no bother I like the look of his knee against mine. total strangers.
I miss when my knees were scabbed and dirt and grass smeared and I didn’t care. I miss when I would pick up bugs and watch them twitch in my hands and laugh with fascination. I miss it when I would kick a ball and get yelled at for once again landing it in the neighbor’s yard. I miss when I actually laughed and smiled and was happy.
Surgery. On both of them. Thought it was all over. Though my dreams were no longer able to be followed. How depressing it was to feel that. However, I was ok. He made sure I was ok. God made sure I was still able to live my life and follow my dreams
I like knees. I’ve always liked them. And I like being caressed in the back of my knees, this soft angle. They are flexible and strong. They let us walk, run, jump. We can knee on the floor to speak to children.
Your hand graced my knee. I though you were making a move. I had dreamed about the way your touch would feel. It was just an accident. You quickly pulled back your hand.
I always hit my knee on the edge of my desk at work and I usually cuss like a sailor when I do it. I have lots of scars on my knees from my rough and tumble childhood. In fact the older I get the more prominent all the scars are seemingly all over my body. I guess it’s the price to pay for getting old.
I hear a thud and a loud cry. I turn around, and when I see her laying face-first in the dirt, I quickly run to her side. Kneeling beside her, I turn her over and jerk back in surprise as I catch sight of the long, thin arrow embedded halfway through her knee. She lets out a cry, tears slipping over her round cheeks. “They know.” She hisses through the pain. “They found us.” I ground my teeth. “Ah, shit.” I mutter. I was supposed to be protecting her, I swore I would, but I let her get wounded. I was so useless. “Go,” She says urgently, trying to push me away. “Get out of here. I can’t move like this. Run!” I shake my head violently and heave her up into my arms. “What are you doing?!” She demands, squirming. “Leave me!” I press my lips to her temple and take off running. “As if I could actually ever leave you behind!” I yell in reply. In the distance, I could hear the calls of men who had found their bounty.
It began as a slight twinge of the tendon when I stepped up stairs, or changed direction too sharply. It grew into a dull ache over the course of months, and in a fateful morning on November the 21st, my leg simply fell off, detached quite cleanly at the knee.
He asked me, times three.
“Girl, would you marry me?”
Said, “I will make you happy
in the years that are coming.”
I smiled. What else was I to do?
He wanted to share a bed, a life and a room.
I know he would loyally say I do,
but no matter what he promised or conveyed
in the future, he wouldn’t make a way.
I should have said what I had to say.
“You could not make me happy today.
So how will you know in years to come, babe?”
I had knee surgery two years ago and the difference is remarkable. Now I can kick and dance like I used t when I was 25. There is an ugly scar down the side, but that’s better than taking paine med’s with the equivlence or heroin or morphine.
directly bellow.
everything is okay, calm, acceptable.
the long dresses she wears and the leggings and the jeans
cover up the flaws right above her knees.
she doesn’t go to the beach, or wear shorts in the summer.
she believes she cant.
correction, she knows she cant without the world looking at her and stereotyping.
emo, depressed, sad, while two of these may be true she doesnt need them thrown in her face.
she knows what she is.
she doesn’t need you to remind her.
I was running and didn’t see the pot hole and when I stepped in it I fell to the concrete. My jeans ripped and my knee skinned. I was drunk but through the booze could feel the burning sting.
Claire’s knee pulsed with pain in time with her heartbeat. The sidewalk mocked her as she attempted to stand back up. What was the deal with her clumsiness lately? That really hurt, she thought. Then, she sucked in a sharp breath as she attempted to put weight on it. A synth girl passed her on one side and gave her a pitying smile and finally stopped to help her up.
Pushed to one side, she lost her balance. She felt a knee hitting her hard in the face, and fell to the ground. Feet trampled on her, as the screams rose around her. She tried to raise herself up to a kneeling position, but others in the scrum stepped on her hands, and pushed her down to the ground. Gritting her teeth, she pushed back, and clawed her way up the very legs that had just stepped on her. After queueing for nine hours, she was going to shake Justin’s hand no matter what it took!
If you kneel I’ll bruise
Heavy purple, ugliness
Hide it in the pew
Knee him in the face. RIght in the face. Because why not, that’s why.
He scratched his knee and, for whatever reason, it made me want to slap him. I’m not a violent person but everything about him just then, the tiny mustache, the way he never stopped moving, and stupid hat all made me want to swat at him and tell him to go away. To never come back. But instead I said. “Cool. That’s cool.”
i looked at my knee torn and scuffed but every injury remind me of the love i had for the world. from the salt in the sea to cleanse my wounded knee to the wood chips on the play ground I saw a little piece of the places ive been.
There was a dull pain in my knee, and when I rolled up the leg of my jeans, I stared at the spread of blood beneath the denim. It had not seeped through the fabric, but it was staining my skin in a web-like pattern, not seeming to be emerging from any scrape, gut, or gash. As I stared at the tattoo-like carnage on my patella, I began to feel a strange shivering sensation up and down my thigh. Suddenly, I could not walk. Suddenly, I could only kneel.
do you like my knee? said gus, oh wait idek if i have one wait no i defs dont have a knee LOL bc i only have 1 leg knee free i guess hahaha. no im soz bout your knee gus you rokstar but the best legends lIved without knees SORRY
ni me see rhi be lei pee sea yee fee ghee key
knee how mow? sin hu chai lin hu fa so HAZEL se no GUS jidno funza mi HAZEL no no hi ret roo hirty garet lin po shi AUGUSTUS. bea us enfo chin ha recto lin po shi han hau mau shin aaYAYAYAYAYA knee of cur knee knee knee knee knee knee curryknee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
knee
I kneed to learn how to spell
Your hand on me
You kiss my knee
You kiss everything
That I find ugly
Scraped knees where the most common thing that happen to me when I was growing up. Playing in the fields, cycling with my brothers. But that left scars even though It doesn’t hurt. same with the heart. Leaves scars even though its healed. .
I hit my knee so hard at my desk that I unknowingly winced. One of my students asked me if I was ok and I grimaced as I said yes. I hobbled throughout the rest of the day, trying my best to continue teaching.
Certain cultures find it socially unacceptable to see knees. Therefore, in preparing to travel to places which have that culture, I have to find things which at least reach my knee.
Tall girl problem #29: Things do not come to my knees. Period. They just don’t.
My knee hurts. I don’t know how. What am I doing when I got this wound? It was bleeding a little bit. I remember it hurting, but I didn’t notice the blood yet. Don’t worry, it will heal soon.
A little wound won’t go a long way. Ishould be really careful. Sometimes I don’t know where I get my wounds. Accidents happen, not like the big problems we all have.
Kel limped down the lonely market street. Her knee hadn’t healed right after she had thrown herself in front of the hurrok as it ran down her charges. She remembered the terror she felt as she watched it stamped toward the children. She smiled at Tobe waiting at the end of the lane. Every bit of pain was worth it. She had saved her son that day.
you can knee for some reason but the best thing is when you knee in front of your parents to thank them what they did to have all this ,so thanking them with kneeing in front of them is the best way to appreciate their work
He kneed me, he elbowed me,
he – no, he was gone.
He had pushed me out of his way
like life in the wrong moments
and had disappeared.
so hard to fall on your knee in your life and you find that you are just dispointed of anything and you don not know what do you do however you have to keep on, tell me how could you do now?! it’s your time and how long you are waiting you are spending gold time…and the problem that you can not get up your knee are stuck in the floor….
I couldn’t stand it any more. Every time I was with him, i was sick. there was something about him that just wasn’t right. He was funny as all hell and kept me laughing the whole time. They weren’t just knee slappers, but actual gut wrenching funniness!
i feel about passion to write just i do not find the writgh wor
Many were the scars upon her knees… alot of folk in the area would cast judgement when she wore skirts and dresses, their minds filled with perversities and immoral behaviour; they didn’t know her past though, when she was younger, she lusted after the freedom gifted to her by a ride on a firm and reassuring companion, her motions enhanced by lubrication; she loved that skateboard dearly back then, but now, the gravel roads and rolling fields offered no solace, but for nature.
got the knee jerk reaction. no thinking no thought just write a poem. his knee knocked against mine. and then we spoke. he spoke words with a slight accent I could not place. no bother I like the look of his knee against mine. total strangers.
I miss when my knees were scabbed and dirt and grass smeared and I didn’t care. I miss when I would pick up bugs and watch them twitch in my hands and laugh with fascination. I miss it when I would kick a ball and get yelled at for once again landing it in the neighbor’s yard. I miss when I actually laughed and smiled and was happy.
I remember how it felt. It was innocent, really. A squeeze of the knee. A minor tease. But it sure got my heart pounding.
Surgery. On both of them. Thought it was all over. Though my dreams were no longer able to be followed. How depressing it was to feel that. However, I was ok. He made sure I was ok. God made sure I was still able to live my life and follow my dreams
I like knees. I’ve always liked them. And I like being caressed in the back of my knees, this soft angle. They are flexible and strong. They let us walk, run, jump. We can knee on the floor to speak to children.
Your hand graced my knee. I though you were making a move. I had dreamed about the way your touch would feel. It was just an accident. You quickly pulled back your hand.
I always hit my knee on the edge of my desk at work and I usually cuss like a sailor when I do it. I have lots of scars on my knees from my rough and tumble childhood. In fact the older I get the more prominent all the scars are seemingly all over my body. I guess it’s the price to pay for getting old.
I hear a thud and a loud cry. I turn around, and when I see her laying face-first in the dirt, I quickly run to her side. Kneeling beside her, I turn her over and jerk back in surprise as I catch sight of the long, thin arrow embedded halfway through her knee. She lets out a cry, tears slipping over her round cheeks. “They know.” She hisses through the pain. “They found us.” I ground my teeth. “Ah, shit.” I mutter. I was supposed to be protecting her, I swore I would, but I let her get wounded. I was so useless. “Go,” She says urgently, trying to push me away. “Get out of here. I can’t move like this. Run!” I shake my head violently and heave her up into my arms. “What are you doing?!” She demands, squirming. “Leave me!” I press my lips to her temple and take off running. “As if I could actually ever leave you behind!” I yell in reply. In the distance, I could hear the calls of men who had found their bounty.
It began as a slight twinge of the tendon when I stepped up stairs, or changed direction too sharply. It grew into a dull ache over the course of months, and in a fateful morning on November the 21st, my leg simply fell off, detached quite cleanly at the knee.
He asked me, times three.
“Girl, would you marry me?”
Said, “I will make you happy
in the years that are coming.”
I smiled. What else was I to do?
He wanted to share a bed, a life and a room.
I know he would loyally say I do,
but no matter what he promised or conveyed
in the future, he wouldn’t make a way.
I should have said what I had to say.
“You could not make me happy today.
So how will you know in years to come, babe?”
I had knee surgery two years ago and the difference is remarkable. Now I can kick and dance like I used t when I was 25. There is an ugly scar down the side, but that’s better than taking paine med’s with the equivlence or heroin or morphine.
directly bellow.
everything is okay, calm, acceptable.
the long dresses she wears and the leggings and the jeans
cover up the flaws right above her knees.
she doesn’t go to the beach, or wear shorts in the summer.
she believes she cant.
correction, she knows she cant without the world looking at her and stereotyping.
emo, depressed, sad, while two of these may be true she doesnt need them thrown in her face.
she knows what she is.
she doesn’t need you to remind her.
My friends are the bee’s knee’s. I am so grateful for them. I hope they feel the same way about me.
I was running and didn’t see the pot hole and when I stepped in it I fell to the concrete. My jeans ripped and my knee skinned. I was drunk but through the booze could feel the burning sting.
“Are you alright?”
My knee has been sore thus I’ve decided to go to the doctor.
yesterday I skinned my knee playing basketball. it really hurt, but I didn’t cry. Hopefully I’ll be able to play again soon.
Claire’s knee pulsed with pain in time with her heartbeat. The sidewalk mocked her as she attempted to stand back up. What was the deal with her clumsiness lately? That really hurt, she thought. Then, she sucked in a sharp breath as she attempted to put weight on it. A synth girl passed her on one side and gave her a pitying smile and finally stopped to help her up.