I got stolen my identity. He took my soul and my heart. I’m empty without him. My tears flow. My faith no more. I can’t make anything of this life anymore. What is this I tell myself? Where is my smile gone. Why me?
The most vilest of men. He who sneaks into my house, uninvited, to take what is not his. To damage my sense of security and to make me look over my shoulder, under the beds, in the cupboards. To leave lights on when it should be dark. How I loathe him for making me feel weak and insecure. How I loathe myself.
he stole my purse. that awful thief! After all that I have done for these people, all I get out of it is a stolen purse and no more money! I hate people in this twon and all I want to do is go home! What if I can’t go home? What will I do then? Stay in thi godforsaken town? I don’t think so! You are winning this election if I have anythig to say about it!
well i already submitted this one but i will try again. i noticed that people were writing poems so i will try my best.
like a thief her buzzard eyes and glistening lips stole away every fiber of my once so vehement being. i lost myself to her that night, and now i do not know where i have gone to.
black masks never really appealed to her before but this one was comfortable. she shifts in her boots and looks around, hoping there’s no one there. there’s no one there to worry about anyway but she feels like there is. she always does. she crouches low to the ground, shaking her head and stubbing out he cigarette with the toe of her shoe. she hates stealing, she really does, but she does it anyway.
Time is a thief. It can just take everything away from you. Life is a thief. It can take love, friends, happiness. Everything that is yours and what you want.
LIke a thief in the night, she stole my heart. With her sweet smile and tiny toes. I held her in my arms and my entire being shifted. I was changed. Transformed. Into a mother.
they suck. they are the same as a liar and a cheat. no matter what you will always lose something in the end. be it physical or not you will never receive it back. though they are usually taking it for their own need there is certainly a moment where you want your stuff back perhaps because it was once something that meant something. we love our things too much.
The thieving magpie. Flew down and stole the man’s hat. It wasn’t a particularly good hat but an old and tattered one. A hat which smelled of wax and ash. As to why the magpie wanted such object remained a mystery to the man.
A moment’s agony was all that greeted the thief as he slipped the relic into his baggy sleeve. He stared in disbelief as the gilt edges turned sharp, then jaggedly so. The numbness spread quietly and quickly; when the chancellor found him the next morning he was already stiff.
when a person steals something he is considered a thief.well we are thieves in some or the other way because we steal emotions we steal feelings and above all we steal life
oh thief, this makes me think of something so cliché. “you stole my heart, give it back”. i think in this case it’s more of a Robin Hood sort of thing. keep my heart, cherish it, distribute it in between the ones who’ll need it. I still have enough to survive without you.
the person who stole my bike in high school. And left the remains lying in front of the boy’s locker room. that asshole. I liked that bike, it was my first freedom (my car was my second)
there was a thief with lustrous blonde hair, a siren of the sea. She roamed the seven seas stealing mens hearts. She was never found and disappeared in the depths with their souls.
he was nothing but a thief, he stole every last once of her, from her head to her toe. her confidence was stolen away and she sat in the corner and cried, as she thought to her self, “how could I ever allow myself to fall for a theif like him.”
a swashbuckling rogue – kicking down doors to get his pay – who is this swine? no one knows? What is he after – an even bigger question, all that we do know is
The window stood open and he stole through it, hoping to find some good picking in the house. It stood in a fancy neighborhood with white windows and a porch.
he stole her heart
nothing more to say but to call him a thief
a thief of love, a thief of life
a theif of her happiness
he stole her heart and broke it down
he was nothing more than a thief
sitting at home wondering what it would be like if I hadn’t closed that window a few minutes ago & a thief had hopped into our little sitting room. Maybe one of the Polish guys nextdoor. What would even be worth stealing?!
Stealing is bad.
When you steal you’re a thief. A bad person.
That’s why its considered wrong to steal in many religions and countries.
Stop stealing – stop hatred!
What is a thief? I mean if you think about it, most people think it is someone who just steals things from wal-mart or perhaps someone’s home. But what if we are missing the true meaning of a thief. A thief could be our bestfriend who steals our confidence when we aren’t looking. A thief could be our mother stealing our bad habbits and turning them into good ones. A thief is more than meets the eye. We just have to come to reality with it all and let it be known that a thief is not always necessarily a bad thing.
He stole her heart on the very first night. She was put in his bag of loot, tossed over her shoulder and carried away. She was wrapped up in the finery of his eyes. She was trapped by the golden smile. She was taken, and happy for it.
What kind of theif was he? there are many different kinds you know. Some are worse than others. My father was a thief… or at least that’s what he told us to keep us from knowing he just drove a truck for a living. How sad is that?
Once there was a man who was very poor. He had a penchant for shiny things and had the bad habit of taking whatever he saw lying around, whether it was his or not. Oddly enough he never tried to pawn the items he took to increase his overall wealth and give him something to buy food with. Instead, with every item he collected, he would place it in to a wall he was building. It turns out he wasn’t that poor after all as the house he had built from all of the items he’d stolen was worth an unimaginable amount. The end.
that is a funny word. bad people are theifs. you can go to jail for thefory….that is a word..right? oh well. i guess being a theif isnt that bad….you might be able to get some free pie out of all of this…or a pitchfork bearing mob….sounds fiery…and quite painful.
i let a thief in my heart a demon in my world a cheater in my soul you know the key to my heart the peek hole to my soul you know the moves i make my where word you took my heart and torn it in two you never cared or ask how it hurted me you never asked but you claim you love me how you love me how are you down for me for me when all you did was walk in my life then hurt me and you think it’s all good but it really effected me
there once was a thief who was in town square. he saw a little girl who he thought was hungry so he decided to go into a store and take food for her. he was caught, but the girl was fed. his hobby helped a little girl survive, and then become an amazing actress. her story remained to tell of the thief who saved her life. she never forgot him.
I’ve stolen a few things in my life. Some of which I regret silently, others I’ve expressed the regret. I don’t know if I truly took something that wasn’t mine and didn’t feel at least a bit of regret or shame or worry about retribution. I just don’t have it in me, I guess.
The body. I knew the body. He had promised me that he wouldn’t go through with the switch; it couldn’t be him! It had to be in possession by it’s original user- I knew it. Before I could think, I had slung the massive creature and his hairy friend across the room.
Thieves are stupid. They are dumb. They take what isn’t theirs. They wear black (but if they are stupid, they wear highlighter yellow). Umm…they steal things, such as bikes, money, jewels, and dogs. I have nothing else to say.
AHHHH.
Now I have to wait 60 seconds again…
Here’s LIZ!
And now I’m typing things and apparently they have to do with the word thief. According to me, a thief is a bad person who does illegal stuff like stealing and goes to jail. The end :) ….
people who steal, not just money, but dreams and hopes and ambitions. People see this word and think only of one kind of person, but a thief can come in many forms. Whether they are dressed in all black or the richest of purples.
Thief of my heart. Or soul. Or body. Or me. Or not me. I am the thief of his piece, his stability, his manhood, his happiness, his marriage. Thieving. Lacking. Gaining. I only gained one thing: the exploration of the infinity of love.
I got stolen my identity. He took my soul and my heart. I’m empty without him. My tears flow. My faith no more. I can’t make anything of this life anymore. What is this I tell myself? Where is my smile gone. Why me?
The most vilest of men. He who sneaks into my house, uninvited, to take what is not his. To damage my sense of security and to make me look over my shoulder, under the beds, in the cupboards. To leave lights on when it should be dark. How I loathe him for making me feel weak and insecure. How I loathe myself.
the
he stole my purse. that awful thief! After all that I have done for these people, all I get out of it is a stolen purse and no more money! I hate people in this twon and all I want to do is go home! What if I can’t go home? What will I do then? Stay in thi godforsaken town? I don’t think so! You are winning this election if I have anythig to say about it!
well i already submitted this one but i will try again. i noticed that people were writing poems so i will try my best.
like a thief her buzzard eyes and glistening lips stole away every fiber of my once so vehement being. i lost myself to her that night, and now i do not know where i have gone to.
black masks never really appealed to her before but this one was comfortable. she shifts in her boots and looks around, hoping there’s no one there. there’s no one there to worry about anyway but she feels like there is. she always does. she crouches low to the ground, shaking her head and stubbing out he cigarette with the toe of her shoe. she hates stealing, she really does, but she does it anyway.
Time is a thief. It can just take everything away from you. Life is a thief. It can take love, friends, happiness. Everything that is yours and what you want.
LIke a thief in the night, she stole my heart. With her sweet smile and tiny toes. I held her in my arms and my entire being shifted. I was changed. Transformed. Into a mother.
they suck. they are the same as a liar and a cheat. no matter what you will always lose something in the end. be it physical or not you will never receive it back. though they are usually taking it for their own need there is certainly a moment where you want your stuff back perhaps because it was once something that meant something. we love our things too much.
The thieving magpie. Flew down and stole the man’s hat. It wasn’t a particularly good hat but an old and tattered one. A hat which smelled of wax and ash. As to why the magpie wanted such object remained a mystery to the man.
A person who takes something from you that is your. They are greedy and jealous of what you have but they cant help it. It can be compulsive stealing.
A moment’s agony was all that greeted the thief as he slipped the relic into his baggy sleeve. He stared in disbelief as the gilt edges turned sharp, then jaggedly so. The numbness spread quietly and quickly; when the chancellor found him the next morning he was already stiff.
when a person steals something he is considered a thief.well we are thieves in some or the other way because we steal emotions we steal feelings and above all we steal life
oh thief, this makes me think of something so cliché. “you stole my heart, give it back”. i think in this case it’s more of a Robin Hood sort of thing. keep my heart, cherish it, distribute it in between the ones who’ll need it. I still have enough to survive without you.
the greatest thief is time, but it was not always so.
the person who stole my bike in high school. And left the remains lying in front of the boy’s locker room. that asshole. I liked that bike, it was my first freedom (my car was my second)
nothing steals like time, and time was once our ally. so be it or let it be.
there was a thief with lustrous blonde hair, a siren of the sea. She roamed the seven seas stealing mens hearts. She was never found and disappeared in the depths with their souls.
he was nothing but a thief, he stole every last once of her, from her head to her toe. her confidence was stolen away and she sat in the corner and cried, as she thought to her self, “how could I ever allow myself to fall for a theif like him.”
a swashbuckling rogue – kicking down doors to get his pay – who is this swine? no one knows? What is he after – an even bigger question, all that we do know is
in the end, she began to confuse stress for love.
The window stood open and he stole through it, hoping to find some good picking in the house. It stood in a fancy neighborhood with white windows and a porch.
he stole her heart
nothing more to say but to call him a thief
a thief of love, a thief of life
a theif of her happiness
he stole her heart and broke it down
he was nothing more than a thief
sitting at home wondering what it would be like if I hadn’t closed that window a few minutes ago & a thief had hopped into our little sitting room. Maybe one of the Polish guys nextdoor. What would even be worth stealing?!
Stealing is bad.
When you steal you’re a thief. A bad person.
That’s why its considered wrong to steal in many religions and countries.
Stop stealing – stop hatred!
What is a thief? I mean if you think about it, most people think it is someone who just steals things from wal-mart or perhaps someone’s home. But what if we are missing the true meaning of a thief. A thief could be our bestfriend who steals our confidence when we aren’t looking. A thief could be our mother stealing our bad habbits and turning them into good ones. A thief is more than meets the eye. We just have to come to reality with it all and let it be known that a thief is not always necessarily a bad thing.
stole my purse on a train
He stole her heart on the very first night. She was put in his bag of loot, tossed over her shoulder and carried away. She was wrapped up in the finery of his eyes. She was trapped by the golden smile. She was taken, and happy for it.
What kind of theif was he? there are many different kinds you know. Some are worse than others. My father was a thief… or at least that’s what he told us to keep us from knowing he just drove a truck for a living. How sad is that?
Once there was a man who was very poor. He had a penchant for shiny things and had the bad habit of taking whatever he saw lying around, whether it was his or not. Oddly enough he never tried to pawn the items he took to increase his overall wealth and give him something to buy food with. Instead, with every item he collected, he would place it in to a wall he was building. It turns out he wasn’t that poor after all as the house he had built from all of the items he’d stolen was worth an unimaginable amount. The end.
that is a funny word. bad people are theifs. you can go to jail for thefory….that is a word..right? oh well. i guess being a theif isnt that bad….you might be able to get some free pie out of all of this…or a pitchfork bearing mob….sounds fiery…and quite painful.
i let a thief in my heart a demon in my world a cheater in my soul you know the key to my heart the peek hole to my soul you know the moves i make my where word you took my heart and torn it in two you never cared or ask how it hurted me you never asked but you claim you love me how you love me how are you down for me for me when all you did was walk in my life then hurt me and you think it’s all good but it really effected me
I have never been a thief. Some of the characters in my books are.
there once was a thief who was in town square. he saw a little girl who he thought was hungry so he decided to go into a store and take food for her. he was caught, but the girl was fed. his hobby helped a little girl survive, and then become an amazing actress. her story remained to tell of the thief who saved her life. she never forgot him.
I’ve stolen a few things in my life. Some of which I regret silently, others I’ve expressed the regret. I don’t know if I truly took something that wasn’t mine and didn’t feel at least a bit of regret or shame or worry about retribution. I just don’t have it in me, I guess.
The body. I knew the body. He had promised me that he wouldn’t go through with the switch; it couldn’t be him! It had to be in possession by it’s original user- I knew it. Before I could think, I had slung the massive creature and his hairy friend across the room.
Thieves are stupid. They are dumb. They take what isn’t theirs. They wear black (but if they are stupid, they wear highlighter yellow). Umm…they steal things, such as bikes, money, jewels, and dogs. I have nothing else to say.
AHHHH.
Now I have to wait 60 seconds again…
Here’s LIZ!
And now I’m typing things and apparently they have to do with the word thief. According to me, a thief is a bad person who does illegal stuff like stealing and goes to jail. The end :) ….
people who steal, not just money, but dreams and hopes and ambitions. People see this word and think only of one kind of person, but a thief can come in many forms. Whether they are dressed in all black or the richest of purples.
Thief of my heart. Or soul. Or body. Or me. Or not me. I am the thief of his piece, his stability, his manhood, his happiness, his marriage. Thieving. Lacking. Gaining. I only gained one thing: the exploration of the infinity of love.
thisfs stral, stealers work with steal and stolen thing are sold by adsa. thief are everywhere.