She placed the coin in his cold hand hoping that it would revive him. It did not. He had been dead too long and she did not get there fast enough. Both remaining family members cried as he slipped into the netherworld.
To put where you need things to be. It belongs there. It’s been decided, and all is well with the world. To be as such is to be fulfilled, truly happy and your deepest purpose completed. If only we all could be placed, just by happenstance, by the wind. How lovely a world life would inhabit. Ugh. Beautiful. Placed.
He took the rose and placed it on the table. She had just refused his offer, and changed his life. He did not want it to change this way, but he could not blame her. He left without saying anything further.
placed. I was placed. First I was placed in my mothers arms. Next I was placed in a light pink blanket. Finally I was placed back in my mothers arms where I dozed to sleep. I awoke in a crib. The tall sides fencing me in, as if they were expecting me to just grow two feet and climb out of something.
I will never place my hand on a kangaroo. They are the scariest creatures ever known to man, I remember when I was little I saw one with a green hat. Why would they wear a hat?! That’s so un-animal-like. Not cool. Hipster as well. Why not a tie? Now, that’s original. I used to place multiple ties around my head because I’m a retard.
placed in a lonely place. placed where you don’t belong. Placed in a broken home.
she was 17, acted her age…. she even rebelled just like everyone her age did. She screamed everyday, at the top of her lungs, misplaced… I am misplaced… I hate this miserable place. Why? Because she was given away to her mom’s family, after both of her parents died last year. Did her mom’s family care? no. they blamed her for what happened. Her parents had left the house in a hurry to go find her, after she had sneaked out of the house. Scared as they were, they roamed the streets mindless, until they got hit by a speeding car. Misplaced, she was, she belonged in a different paralleled universe.
a good place warm nice sweet happy. with eveyone one i love and things i like. a safe place where nothing bad can happen. where things come to life. where there is no wrong.
I was placed in a very difficult situation. Betray my brother in all but flesh and blood for the lies and deceit that he was creating, or play along with his sick and twisted little game. There would be casualties in the end, but I made my choice and I stay by it, because in the end, you were the one that decided to inhale and shoot up and throw his affection at women like a farmer throws feed to chickens. Why’d you have to go and let it die?
I haven’t forgotten your hands. Their careful architecture, how empathetic they are. You always knew precisely where to press and release them, how to frame skin within them.
No one could touch like you, so attuned to the body’s dialect.
I was only 16 when they put me there, forced me there in that place. I was placed there. Like a doll in a little house. With everything I own but only myself. Alone. Confused and waiting for some sort of realization to come to me.
I was put in a nesting box of feathers and twigs, placed in a cardboard cube. I got rattled and rumbled and messed all about until finally finally they took my out. But a bird is not made for a square of pure dark, so all that they got was a skeletal wing.
Placed where? Placed what? I’ve never been placed in a place I felt local. But I belong where I am placed because wherever I am placed I am happy. I could be picked up, moved, and placed elsewhere, by a giant hand, and I would make the most of that new place. Wherever I am, this is the place.
So much was placed upon this already heavy load of mine, I wasn’t sure whether or not I could bare carrying it any longer. It gets harder as the days go on, that cold, harsh, realization that you’re soon going to have to change every routine that you’re so very use to. But I guess in a sense that’s the beauty of it. So many heartbreaks, saddening situations but you know what? They open so many doors and it will be ok and you will find that road you’re meant to travel down. You’ll meet so many people and although you may have met them anyway, you’ll look at them in a different light, a brighter light. The light of possibilities in which you will discover yourself learning, experiencing and taking away so many good things from that person.
im placed in a place where i cant get out, but have to deal. Grow where you are planted. Places I would love to know every place. I dont have the money to though. I will though.
It’s something that’s done to many objects. It’s how things are composed. It’s one’s job or position.
Re-places.
A negative connotation. You’re being taken out. Left alone.
in place, feeling accepted. loved. part of something. forced into line. assumed a position. stereotyped. part of a community. imprisoned. lack of freedom. finding your own place – good. being given a place – bad. choices/lack of.
when she placed her hand on the railing, she knew it was the last choice she’d make. she grabbed a hold and threw her feet over. her body sailed over the bars and fell. falling. falling. falling. until she fell no more.
The glass trembled on the edge, teetering the slightest bit. Rings rippled out from the middle of its contents, then, altogether too suddenly for anyone else to witness, sloshed up its sides. This was all the momentum it needed before it tumbled to the floor, far below where it had been carelessly placed on the ledge hours before.
I have misplaced my identity
I don’t know who I have become
I am so negative all the time
I don’t smile
I don’t do good in school anymore
I build walls instead of bridges
I need help that is probably why I talk to the counselor at school
I am happy that I still have friends and I have a family that loves me dearly
so I guess I haven’t misplaced my identity.
:)
broken. cracked up and split in half straight down the middle. cut like scissors slicing through wrapping paper. because now there is nothing but waiting. and what am I waiting for anyway? am I fool, have I been one all along? and why do I always end up disappointed? why, even when it feels so real, does it turn out to be a fraud?
envelope. on the table in the living room. noone knows how it got there, or who it belongs to. Someday it will be opened and its juicy insides shared with the world. but for now it will just sit there.
You saw people as possessions and life as a game;
Friends were mere trophies to add to your name.
When everything’s a contest that you just have to win,
You’ll realize your downfall lives in your own skin.
she placed the phone down on the counter. then hesitated a moment before walking to the door. each foot set deliberately and quietly so as to hear any noises on the other side.
He placed the last box in his apartment. He looked out the window over the great streets of New York City. He made it. he actually made it. Just some peasant son from some unkown shithole in the south, had actually made it to the big apple.
He sits down before her, where he had placed the large suitcase a few days ago, cross-legged. There’s a faint glimmer in his eyes before he brushes the strands that have fallen from her bun from her paled face. “It’ll be okay,” he says, trying his best to soothe her. “They’re not going to come. I assure you, mon cherie. Listen,” he goes on, grabbing her hand gently in his, and placing it with faint pressure on his chest, “do you hear that?”
Lucius’ heart beneath his chest is hammering – Eliza’s green-black eyes enlarge. A faint smile passes on her face, soon replaced with a worried expression. Lucius frowns. “My pet – what is wrong? My heart – it is beating.”
“No,” she begins, flinching her hand away from his chest. The hair on her arms begin to unfix, her lips begin to tremble, she scoots away on the granite flooring, though her green eyes are still fixated on his grey. “It can’t be – What beast have you now become?” she stammers, her fright revealing through her trembling form.
“Baby,” he begins, trying his best to near her, but she further recoils away. Her back is now perched against the wall, a portrait of the once happy family hanging a few feet above her.
“You – You sold your soul. You were dead,” she whispers, her voice just a beat above the sound of wind.
“How could you say that, love?” he asks. “What have you heard – what makes you think – ”
“I saw you in your coffin!” she cries. “I buried you, goddamnit! I married – I have a husband – I’m pregnant – ”
“With my spawn,” he hisses.
“NO!” she bellows.
“It was me, love. Your husband is no more. I killed him. You think you could leave me so easily … mon cherie?” he asks softly, a paradox to his raptor gaze. “I’m – after all – the devil.”
Lucius de Claremont smiles serenely at the young, pregnant woman crouching before him – she’s pathetic. “I love the fragile,” he whispers.
My head is always wandering throughout the space. I never know how to hold it on. It flies all the way through America, Asia, Africa and Andromeda. Specially Andromeda. My self wonders why it happens. Why is my mind always out of place? Perhaps, it searchs for a home.
Placed, in a world that’s too much for this sensitive soul.
“Why, why must I suffer so?”, I ask as Depression slowly consumes me, and the insults of others’ destroy me inside.
Placed, I was, in a life I never wanted. A life of pain and abuse, mental illness, misunderstanding is all I receive from others. Heartache, it devours me. I want no more of this. Spare me, I think. Spare me.
Spare me, it runs in my racing thoughts, as I run the edge of that blade across my wrist.
The pieces were constantly placed and replaced. Pawns marched across the board in a chain gang that would make Paul Newman proud. Knights did their jaunty dance. Crooked bishops oozed their way along the diagonals. The proud Queen moved any way she needed to in order to win.
I placed the step stool down in front of me and got up on it so I could see over everyone beneath me. The second I stood up I had this weird premonition – like all the people I’d been afraid of, who seemed cooler and more talented were so little, and I so big. I could lord over them so easily, if only I showed them that we were of the same caliber.
She was wondering all day where she put the flower. She decided in the morning she will go to work instead of wondering all day in the apt and no worrying where she placed the flower.
She placed her keys on the kitchen counter, the same place she had every other day of the years she had been living in this house. She looked around at the bare shelves. It was crazy to think that this was the last time she would be returning to the home she grew up in.
I had just placed the last item on the table when it hit me…these guys had no clue what I was planning to do with these things! Interesting metal objects can be construed as art….and less often but just as likely a torture device.
She placed the coin in his cold hand hoping that it would revive him. It did not. He had been dead too long and she did not get there fast enough. Both remaining family members cried as he slipped into the netherworld.
To put where you need things to be. It belongs there. It’s been decided, and all is well with the world. To be as such is to be fulfilled, truly happy and your deepest purpose completed. If only we all could be placed, just by happenstance, by the wind. How lovely a world life would inhabit. Ugh. Beautiful. Placed.
He took the rose and placed it on the table. She had just refused his offer, and changed his life. He did not want it to change this way, but he could not blame her. He left without saying anything further.
He was placed in my mind.
He is placed in my heart.
I hear him, but I don’t want to.
I see him but I don’t want to.
I know him, and I don’t want to.
placed. I was placed. First I was placed in my mothers arms. Next I was placed in a light pink blanket. Finally I was placed back in my mothers arms where I dozed to sleep. I awoke in a crib. The tall sides fencing me in, as if they were expecting me to just grow two feet and climb out of something.
I will never place my hand on a kangaroo. They are the scariest creatures ever known to man, I remember when I was little I saw one with a green hat. Why would they wear a hat?! That’s so un-animal-like. Not cool. Hipster as well. Why not a tie? Now, that’s original. I used to place multiple ties around my head because I’m a retard.
placed in a lonely place. placed where you don’t belong. Placed in a broken home.
she was 17, acted her age…. she even rebelled just like everyone her age did. She screamed everyday, at the top of her lungs, misplaced… I am misplaced… I hate this miserable place. Why? Because she was given away to her mom’s family, after both of her parents died last year. Did her mom’s family care? no. they blamed her for what happened. Her parents had left the house in a hurry to go find her, after she had sneaked out of the house. Scared as they were, they roamed the streets mindless, until they got hit by a speeding car. Misplaced, she was, she belonged in a different paralleled universe.
a good place warm nice sweet happy. with eveyone one i love and things i like. a safe place where nothing bad can happen. where things come to life. where there is no wrong.
I was placed in a very difficult situation. Betray my brother in all but flesh and blood for the lies and deceit that he was creating, or play along with his sick and twisted little game. There would be casualties in the end, but I made my choice and I stay by it, because in the end, you were the one that decided to inhale and shoot up and throw his affection at women like a farmer throws feed to chickens. Why’d you have to go and let it die?
I haven’t forgotten your hands. Their careful architecture, how empathetic they are. You always knew precisely where to press and release them, how to frame skin within them.
No one could touch like you, so attuned to the body’s dialect.
I was only 16 when they put me there, forced me there in that place. I was placed there. Like a doll in a little house. With everything I own but only myself. Alone. Confused and waiting for some sort of realization to come to me.
I was put in a nesting box of feathers and twigs, placed in a cardboard cube. I got rattled and rumbled and messed all about until finally finally they took my out. But a bird is not made for a square of pure dark, so all that they got was a skeletal wing.
Placed where? Placed what? I’ve never been placed in a place I felt local. But I belong where I am placed because wherever I am placed I am happy. I could be picked up, moved, and placed elsewhere, by a giant hand, and I would make the most of that new place. Wherever I am, this is the place.
So much was placed upon this already heavy load of mine, I wasn’t sure whether or not I could bare carrying it any longer. It gets harder as the days go on, that cold, harsh, realization that you’re soon going to have to change every routine that you’re so very use to. But I guess in a sense that’s the beauty of it. So many heartbreaks, saddening situations but you know what? They open so many doors and it will be ok and you will find that road you’re meant to travel down. You’ll meet so many people and although you may have met them anyway, you’ll look at them in a different light, a brighter light. The light of possibilities in which you will discover yourself learning, experiencing and taking away so many good things from that person.
im placed in a place where i cant get out, but have to deal. Grow where you are planted. Places I would love to know every place. I dont have the money to though. I will though.
The object was place on the table
Never to be touched again
To be used no more
I placed it there
I gave it its position
And now its done
Placed.
It’s something that’s done to many objects. It’s how things are composed. It’s one’s job or position.
Re-places.
A negative connotation. You’re being taken out. Left alone.
in place, feeling accepted. loved. part of something. forced into line. assumed a position. stereotyped. part of a community. imprisoned. lack of freedom. finding your own place – good. being given a place – bad. choices/lack of.
together in a moment that couldn’t be changed, there is nothing more real than here, beside you, i am part of it all, whether i want to be or not.
when she placed her hand on the railing, she knew it was the last choice she’d make. she grabbed a hold and threw her feet over. her body sailed over the bars and fell. falling. falling. falling. until she fell no more.
The glass trembled on the edge, teetering the slightest bit. Rings rippled out from the middle of its contents, then, altogether too suddenly for anyone else to witness, sloshed up its sides. This was all the momentum it needed before it tumbled to the floor, far below where it had been carelessly placed on the ledge hours before.
I was placed at the end
Never at the beginning
They never saw me for what I was really
Only for what I would never be
I was placed at the end
Nowhere else
Only the end
The first to be taken
The last to be chosen
((You’ll never be chosen, they said))
Say hello to the end, they said.
I have misplaced my identity
I don’t know who I have become
I am so negative all the time
I don’t smile
I don’t do good in school anymore
I build walls instead of bridges
I need help that is probably why I talk to the counselor at school
I am happy that I still have friends and I have a family that loves me dearly
so I guess I haven’t misplaced my identity.
:)
broken. cracked up and split in half straight down the middle. cut like scissors slicing through wrapping paper. because now there is nothing but waiting. and what am I waiting for anyway? am I fool, have I been one all along? and why do I always end up disappointed? why, even when it feels so real, does it turn out to be a fraud?
envelope. on the table in the living room. noone knows how it got there, or who it belongs to. Someday it will be opened and its juicy insides shared with the world. but for now it will just sit there.
I placed the card in her hands.
You saw people as possessions and life as a game;
Friends were mere trophies to add to your name.
When everything’s a contest that you just have to win,
You’ll realize your downfall lives in your own skin.
she placed the phone down on the counter. then hesitated a moment before walking to the door. each foot set deliberately and quietly so as to hear any noises on the other side.
I never asked for you to come,
But please, go ahead,
Make yourself at home.
Well you’ll leave,
Like they always do.
And along with your departure,
You take a piece of me.
Like they always do.
You left.
You left me.
You left me displaced.
He placed the last box in his apartment. He looked out the window over the great streets of New York City. He made it. he actually made it. Just some peasant son from some unkown shithole in the south, had actually made it to the big apple.
He sits down before her, where he had placed the large suitcase a few days ago, cross-legged. There’s a faint glimmer in his eyes before he brushes the strands that have fallen from her bun from her paled face. “It’ll be okay,” he says, trying his best to soothe her. “They’re not going to come. I assure you, mon cherie. Listen,” he goes on, grabbing her hand gently in his, and placing it with faint pressure on his chest, “do you hear that?”
Lucius’ heart beneath his chest is hammering – Eliza’s green-black eyes enlarge. A faint smile passes on her face, soon replaced with a worried expression. Lucius frowns. “My pet – what is wrong? My heart – it is beating.”
“No,” she begins, flinching her hand away from his chest. The hair on her arms begin to unfix, her lips begin to tremble, she scoots away on the granite flooring, though her green eyes are still fixated on his grey. “It can’t be – What beast have you now become?” she stammers, her fright revealing through her trembling form.
“Baby,” he begins, trying his best to near her, but she further recoils away. Her back is now perched against the wall, a portrait of the once happy family hanging a few feet above her.
“You – You sold your soul. You were dead,” she whispers, her voice just a beat above the sound of wind.
“How could you say that, love?” he asks. “What have you heard – what makes you think – ”
“I saw you in your coffin!” she cries. “I buried you, goddamnit! I married – I have a husband – I’m pregnant – ”
“With my spawn,” he hisses.
“NO!” she bellows.
“It was me, love. Your husband is no more. I killed him. You think you could leave me so easily … mon cherie?” he asks softly, a paradox to his raptor gaze. “I’m – after all – the devil.”
Lucius de Claremont smiles serenely at the young, pregnant woman crouching before him – she’s pathetic. “I love the fragile,” he whispers.
My head is always wandering throughout the space. I never know how to hold it on. It flies all the way through America, Asia, Africa and Andromeda. Specially Andromeda. My self wonders why it happens. Why is my mind always out of place? Perhaps, it searchs for a home.
Placed, in a world that’s too much for this sensitive soul.
“Why, why must I suffer so?”, I ask as Depression slowly consumes me, and the insults of others’ destroy me inside.
Placed, I was, in a life I never wanted. A life of pain and abuse, mental illness, misunderstanding is all I receive from others. Heartache, it devours me. I want no more of this. Spare me, I think. Spare me.
Spare me, it runs in my racing thoughts, as I run the edge of that blade across my wrist.
I was spared. It was about time, too.
The pieces were constantly placed and replaced. Pawns marched across the board in a chain gang that would make Paul Newman proud. Knights did their jaunty dance. Crooked bishops oozed their way along the diagonals. The proud Queen moved any way she needed to in order to win.
“Checkmate,” She whispered to the King.
placed…..P L A C E D 6 letters making up one word….2 vowels 4 consanants….make up 1 word….placed…to be put in a certain spot…..
and the man said he wasn’t allowed to move for another 50 years. What a shame, he thought, but at least it was a nice cushion.
I placed the step stool down in front of me and got up on it so I could see over everyone beneath me. The second I stood up I had this weird premonition – like all the people I’d been afraid of, who seemed cooler and more talented were so little, and I so big. I could lord over them so easily, if only I showed them that we were of the same caliber.
She was wondering all day where she put the flower. She decided in the morning she will go to work instead of wondering all day in the apt and no worrying where she placed the flower.
She placed her keys on the kitchen counter, the same place she had every other day of the years she had been living in this house. She looked around at the bare shelves. It was crazy to think that this was the last time she would be returning to the home she grew up in.
I had just placed the last item on the table when it hit me…these guys had no clue what I was planning to do with these things! Interesting metal objects can be construed as art….and less often but just as likely a torture device.