Strings of thought surround her, tugging at her mind. They will not leave her be, will not let her rest until she examines them all. They are like demons, betraying her, killing her as they wonder about in the depths of her mind. Excruciatingly painful, slow, murderous death. When will she be free?
ball o’ yarn for a cat. i miss the cat from tigre- miss all cats from my life, almost as though they were people to me. how is it that they can be so intelligent yet think that string is something worth attacking?
The string of the kite sways in the wind, a vision of childhood that has since been forgotten. She holds in her small hands, watching it float around across the clouds, soaring with a life of its own. This is what life is about. Small moments like these ones; kite flying and childhood. Today she feels free.
There was a girl, always held by strings like a puppet. One day the girl got tired of playing a puppet and twisted the strings together, wrapped it around her neck, and gracefully slipped away and hung to her peaceful death.
string is everywhere. it hold us up before we fall. the string is what our lives are suspended on. string reminds me of the past, present, and future. reminds me of home, my family, and believe it or not… death. when my last string is cut, this is when i will move on.
She pulled at the string from the hem of her skirt. It had just been dangling there and taunting her until her willpower broke and she pulled at it, unwinding the hem of her skirt.
She tangled it in her hands, moving her figners in a way that looked random and was so precise. the Jacob’s ladder emerged and she smiled, pulling it apart before she decided to start up on a new shape.
there once was a string that held up a girl. she’d been attached to strings for her whole life, always following people’s orders, being a puppet. then one day, she got tired of being the puppet. she took the strings, twisted them up, and tied them around her neck. she let the tears run down her face as she let herself fall and strangle to her death.
A string of things followed me these days, I liked it and made my days feel full. It made me want to be a better person and improve my way of life. Become a better person in other words.
No strings attached. or so i thought. i was in an abusive relationship… with 1500 high schoolers. they hated learning. hated english. they made me angry. why was i so attached to them?
A ball of string is the most enjoyable thing sometimes. Whether you’re a cat laying in the window pawing or a two children in a school, string can be really fun.
No strings attached. Or so I thought. I was teaching English to kids who didn’t care. Not about school, not about learning. They made me angry. So, why did I become so attached to them?
String is way up there in my list of things to play with if I was a cat. The endless entertainment that string would provide me would be awesome. I could also tie up other cats with it.
There was a little bit of string holding the flowers together, tied in a ribbon like he thought it was beautiful. And the flowers would have been beautiful, but not with that bit of string, not with that reminder of how poor we were. Oh, that things had been different! Oh, that we weren’t poor.
bikini. that’s what i won’t be wearing this summer or probably any other summer. I might not have ever had the body to wear a string bikini, even though one time there was one purchased as a gift for me. It was promptly returned for something with much more support. I don’t wear floss.
I was falling to the ground at a high speed one bright and sunny day, but the only thing keeping me from going mental was a simple string of blue, within my grasp, yet not really doing anything other than being a comfort.
something that is skinny and ties knots. it holds my shoes on my feet and sometimes even my door closed. ties hair back or gets in the way. comes in all colors and can use to knit things like gloves, sweaters and socks. long short.
I like strings. Expecially guitar strings, because they go on and on in playing long after our fingers finished to touch them. And I feel like a guitar string. I always keep on palying and being vibrating, long after things happen in my life.
String,I like the texture of string. It’s soft or hairy and stong depending on it’s use. It ties up parcels delivered by postmen with exciting contents.
it tangled through her fingers, red as blood, struggling like a monster in chains, and all she wanted was for the knot to untie itself, but all that happened was it got worse and worse
a string of a guitar
playing blues with this guitar
making a huge success
traveling the world playing guitar, riding a car through all states
having fun
Strings come in all different shapes and sizes. Many simple inventions contain a string, for example, a yoyo. Yoyo’s are very fun, and why, you ask? Because the most important part of the yoyo is a string!
long and resoursefull.
keeping the simplest of things together.
but be careful,
for it can be broken quickly,
and is not easy to mend.
just like many other things we can find in life,
strewn across a busy street.
forgotten.
no strings attached would be nice
but i feel like more of a puppet with you
i don’t want to be tied down
yet you have me dizzy
from you standing above me
twirling those strings
spinning my head round and round
the string was hanging down in the middle of the room. he went over and pulled but nothing happened. elsewhere a light lit up notifying the crew of the intruders. we left the string room and proceeded to move to the other rooms in the hall. the lack of light rendered the hall in dank glow. not knowing where the light was coming from we just moved through peeking into the rooms as we went by.
Strings of thought surround her, tugging at her mind. They will not leave her be, will not let her rest until she examines them all. They are like demons, betraying her, killing her as they wonder about in the depths of her mind. Excruciatingly painful, slow, murderous death. When will she be free?
ball o’ yarn for a cat. i miss the cat from tigre- miss all cats from my life, almost as though they were people to me. how is it that they can be so intelligent yet think that string is something worth attacking?
The string of the kite sways in the wind, a vision of childhood that has since been forgotten. She holds in her small hands, watching it float around across the clouds, soaring with a life of its own. This is what life is about. Small moments like these ones; kite flying and childhood. Today she feels free.
There was a girl, always held by strings like a puppet. One day the girl got tired of playing a puppet and twisted the strings together, wrapped it around her neck, and gracefully slipped away and hung to her peaceful death.
string is everywhere. it hold us up before we fall. the string is what our lives are suspended on. string reminds me of the past, present, and future. reminds me of home, my family, and believe it or not… death. when my last string is cut, this is when i will move on.
She pulled at the string from the hem of her skirt. It had just been dangling there and taunting her until her willpower broke and she pulled at it, unwinding the hem of her skirt.
A string holds things together, or is a chain of events. A string can be so small, but be extremely important.
She tangled it in her hands, moving her figners in a way that looked random and was so precise. the Jacob’s ladder emerged and she smiled, pulling it apart before she decided to start up on a new shape.
there once was a string that held up a girl. she’d been attached to strings for her whole life, always following people’s orders, being a puppet. then one day, she got tired of being the puppet. she took the strings, twisted them up, and tied them around her neck. she let the tears run down her face as she let herself fall and strangle to her death.
A string of things followed me these days, I liked it and made my days feel full. It made me want to be a better person and improve my way of life. Become a better person in other words.
life is a string in motion waitin to be reaped apart by some crazy scissor
No strings attached. or so i thought. i was in an abusive relationship… with 1500 high schoolers. they hated learning. hated english. they made me angry. why was i so attached to them?
i pull a string. it must be connected with something. but just what is it… i know doing this may change everything. or nothing. its just a string.
ive got the world on a string. The string is fading. It’s unraveling. My guitar needs new strings. If I change those strings, harmony will follow.
I’ve got the world on a string…
Strung between two tightrope poles, balancing precariously above a sky full of stars, just about to fall.
spinning with a purpose. the world is at your fingertips. dangling from a string.
A ball of string is the most enjoyable thing sometimes. Whether you’re a cat laying in the window pawing or a two children in a school, string can be really fun.
No strings attached. Or so I thought. I was teaching English to kids who didn’t care. Not about school, not about learning. They made me angry. So, why did I become so attached to them?
I had a piece of string. It kept me together. I wish it could have done that for you.
String is way up there in my list of things to play with if I was a cat. The endless entertainment that string would provide me would be awesome. I could also tie up other cats with it.
There was a little bit of string holding the flowers together, tied in a ribbon like he thought it was beautiful. And the flowers would have been beautiful, but not with that bit of string, not with that reminder of how poor we were. Oh, that things had been different! Oh, that we weren’t poor.
bikini. that’s what i won’t be wearing this summer or probably any other summer. I might not have ever had the body to wear a string bikini, even though one time there was one purchased as a gift for me. It was promptly returned for something with much more support. I don’t wear floss.
I was falling to the ground at a high speed one bright and sunny day, but the only thing keeping me from going mental was a simple string of blue, within my grasp, yet not really doing anything other than being a comfort.
something that is skinny and ties knots. it holds my shoes on my feet and sometimes even my door closed. ties hair back or gets in the way. comes in all colors and can use to knit things like gloves, sweaters and socks. long short.
I pull the string out of his hair and smile. “You’ve been very messy today, kiddo.”
He grins back and pulls out a popsicle stick man with bright orange yarn for hair. “Happy birthday, Mom.”
String together a list of my faults and then an even longer list of my perfections. Tie it up and give it to me as a gift.
I like strings. Expecially guitar strings, because they go on and on in playing long after our fingers finished to touch them. And I feel like a guitar string. I always keep on palying and being vibrating, long after things happen in my life.
Shortened from String Theory, also called M-Theory, String is an attempt to unite the forces of gravity with quantum mechanics.
String,I like the texture of string. It’s soft or hairy and stong depending on it’s use. It ties up parcels delivered by postmen with exciting contents.
to be a person who is hanging on a string
it tangled through her fingers, red as blood, struggling like a monster in chains, and all she wanted was for the knot to untie itself, but all that happened was it got worse and worse
This is a piece of string.
It’s connected to my stuffed tiger Stripey
a string of a guitar
playing blues with this guitar
making a huge success
traveling the world playing guitar, riding a car through all states
having fun
This is a piece of string.
Strings come in all different shapes and sizes. Many simple inventions contain a string, for example, a yoyo. Yoyo’s are very fun, and why, you ask? Because the most important part of the yoyo is a string!
The long string, flowing out of the road to tied to a car, and never stoping. Where did it came from, and way? This is the Question,
long and resoursefull.
keeping the simplest of things together.
but be careful,
for it can be broken quickly,
and is not easy to mend.
just like many other things we can find in life,
strewn across a busy street.
forgotten.
I’m just stuck on strings. A marionette puppet, letting him control me.
no strings attached would be nice
but i feel like more of a puppet with you
i don’t want to be tied down
yet you have me dizzy
from you standing above me
twirling those strings
spinning my head round and round
the string was hanging down in the middle of the room. he went over and pulled but nothing happened. elsewhere a light lit up notifying the crew of the intruders. we left the string room and proceeded to move to the other rooms in the hall. the lack of light rendered the hall in dank glow. not knowing where the light was coming from we just moved through peeking into the rooms as we went by.