He owned the horse no matter what anyone said. He had a friendship with it that he felt could never be broken. He’d find a way to save the old barn. He had to or he feared he’d lose everything close to him that he ever knew. He wouldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t bear the sight of seeing the white horse leave.
It had a charming smile that would always grace its face, eyes that would sparkle and twinkle with every step it took, nice and kind words coming out of its lips every time it passed by a lonely figure. Once upon a time, the darkness was called “the light”.
I owned a car that was red then I owned a car that was black. I have owned gold jewellery and sliver jewellery and fake jewellery. I have owned houses and property and jobs. I own myself. and I have owned the choices that I have made. But I will never be owned by anybody.
she was as old and beat up as the leather in the 67 jetta her purchased back in high school, worn by the sun and winds of time.but she carried herself like as her own woman, owned by no one. she would go down for a fight but stay syanding
I have an old pair of shoes you could call them once owned, cause that’s what they are, no one could reuse them for they have taken the shape of my feet, the heel has been affected by the way i stand.
It’s those things I scrambled together in my hands amongst the sand. The things I was trying to save from the fire, but all I gathered was ash. I was ash too by now. And so I lay amongst all my things and thought about when was the last time I did the washing, whether my nails had been clipped when I died and all those other things people tell you you won’t worry about.
The outer suburbs turned to long stretches of fields, green now with the recent rain. Melbourne sunk below a peak of the Hume Highway. She was leaving for home really. Finally returning to Sydney but without almost all she had left with. Her husband had gone. Her brother. Her belongings; paints and plates and CDs from the 90s. All she owned now was her dog and neurotic disposition, but the road is kind like that. It leads the way for anyone.
Owned? OWNED? I DID NOT GET OWNED!!! If I got owned would I be still wearing this cat? Hell know. I’ll own your cat if you’re not careful. Own it with a one two one two
The entire ship was being silent as it passed wave upon wave in what appeared to be a sea of bodies. The prow would plow like a sullen ox through the sometimes thicker layer, jolting the entire boat in the process.
Owned: laying claim to. But if the only thing we HAVE to do is die, do we ever truly own anything? We put our stamp on what we want to be ours forever, but what is ownership except for a piece of paper and a few words?
This is a lame word. When I read Owned, I think of someone getting owned. :I I wanted to be all prosy and melancholic and shit, but I guess I have to be all pop-cultury then. Damn, son, I don’t know what to think. You got owned, son. Owned.
To be owned is to be nothing. It’s to be naught but the extension of another’s will, to lack a true and defined existence of your own. It is the ultimate humiliation.
“How likely is it that she will?” “Oh, almost certain…” Matt gestured at a hot dog stand, and they changed direction. “They can flag data so that someone is notified if a particular record is accessed, so pretty soon you may be getting a whole lot more attention than you deserve.” “She took control of my bank accounts yesterday,” Doyle responded, pouring mustard on his hot dog, “but I’m already using cash for everything to stay under the radar.” Matt stifled a laugh; “No, I mean the kind of attention where you are escorted to a room with no wallpaper, and they start breaking you down, like in the movies, until you admit you once owned dirty pictures of Hillary Clinton, or whatever they want you to say!” Doyle smiled also. “But seriously, my friend, you need to be very careful. This could, no, will, get nasty!”
This is something I had owned for quite a while, and no, it wouldn’t be leaving through a crummy yard sale. I knew it had some sort of importance, it was just understanding this importance that I had yet to do. This led everyone to believe it was junk like all the other old halloween costumes and tupperware out there. But somewhere I knew it wasn’t.
Once I was held in the palm of another; once I was the cast; once, I was nothing more but the shedded exoskeleton of a creature I wished only to be a part of once more.
Once, I wanted nothing more but to be loved by you.
i owned her, she owned me it was all i could think about. she was in love with me a girl like me and i couldn’t believe that. she held my heart is her beautifully polished hands. i will never forget this.
Most of people judge success of an individual by counting how many things he owned. But, to me this criteria to judge success looks insane. Success should not be determined by what you have but how much you give back to society
You can’t own a view of the channel, but I have my own view of Gastineau Channel… yeah… Juneau. Each day I receive a gift of currents and wind riffles.
Geez, what a loaded word. Are we talking, I own this car or I OWN you. Frankly, owning is such a transient notion. Think Walking Dead, where it’s finders keepers. Nice idea, but doesn’t work out in practice without a culture holding it up.
Authority was hard to fake, but it was especialyl frustrating when you should have it and no one would respect it. These were people who owed you, people that you had protected and worked for your entire life. You OWNED them. They were yours. And yet you never managed to get any respect.
The pair of shoes sat on the shelf, taunting her. Once-white Converse, stained brown by age, holes torn in them. She knew she had to throw them away. But she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. She’d owned them for so long.
The thing that I had I never thought were my own. They were given to me, or necessities, but nothing that was something that was “mine”. But then he gave me a gift, a simple small prickly cactus, and this dumb spiky plant was mine. It was the first thing I owned.
I don’t have anything specific for this one. Well, I wish that someday, I may be owned by one beautiful girl who will never let go of me! That’s the one which shall be special to me then.
Hannah owned twelve baseball caps, six pairs of boys cargo pants, at least two dozen T-shirts with all sorts of band logos on them (bands that she listened to, of course), and approximately ten pairs of converse sneakers. She used the word “approximately” for said sneakers because one of those pairs – her favorite pair, to boot, bright blue in color with rainbow laces – had massive holes in the bottoms of both soles and were hardly worn these days, especially not during rainy weather.
He owned the horse no matter what anyone said. He had a friendship with it that he felt could never be broken. He’d find a way to save the old barn. He had to or he feared he’d lose everything close to him that he ever knew. He wouldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t bear the sight of seeing the white horse leave.
Jerry owned a car. A nice, shiny, fast car. Jerry died. In a car crash. A nice, shiny, fast car crash.
Once upon a time, the darkness owned a heart.
It had a charming smile that would always grace its face, eyes that would sparkle and twinkle with every step it took, nice and kind words coming out of its lips every time it passed by a lonely figure. Once upon a time, the darkness was called “the light”.
Owned is another word for “this is rightfully mine”. You can own a house. I don’t know what else to write. I don’t know what else to write.
I owned a car that was red then I owned a car that was black. I have owned gold jewellery and sliver jewellery and fake jewellery. I have owned houses and property and jobs. I own myself. and I have owned the choices that I have made. But I will never be owned by anybody.
good morning
she was as old and beat up as the leather in the 67 jetta her purchased back in high school, worn by the sun and winds of time.but she carried herself like as her own woman, owned by no one. she would go down for a fight but stay syanding
you owned me
you did not ask to
but i wanted you too
and with you gone?
nobody owns me
I’m just another thing
somebody once owned
I have an old pair of shoes you could call them once owned, cause that’s what they are, no one could reuse them for they have taken the shape of my feet, the heel has been affected by the way i stand.
It’s those things I scrambled together in my hands amongst the sand. The things I was trying to save from the fire, but all I gathered was ash. I was ash too by now. And so I lay amongst all my things and thought about when was the last time I did the washing, whether my nails had been clipped when I died and all those other things people tell you you won’t worry about.
The outer suburbs turned to long stretches of fields, green now with the recent rain. Melbourne sunk below a peak of the Hume Highway. She was leaving for home really. Finally returning to Sydney but without almost all she had left with. Her husband had gone. Her brother. Her belongings; paints and plates and CDs from the 90s. All she owned now was her dog and neurotic disposition, but the road is kind like that. It leads the way for anyone.
Owned? OWNED? I DID NOT GET OWNED!!! If I got owned would I be still wearing this cat? Hell know. I’ll own your cat if you’re not careful. Own it with a one two one two
The entire ship was being silent as it passed wave upon wave in what appeared to be a sea of bodies. The prow would plow like a sullen ox through the sometimes thicker layer, jolting the entire boat in the process.
Owned: laying claim to. But if the only thing we HAVE to do is die, do we ever truly own anything? We put our stamp on what we want to be ours forever, but what is ownership except for a piece of paper and a few words?
I always look at you the others
why would anyone think that know is anything
I know something missing
alive, obzerahbable
This is a lame word. When I read Owned, I think of someone getting owned. :I I wanted to be all prosy and melancholic and shit, but I guess I have to be all pop-cultury then. Damn, son, I don’t know what to think. You got owned, son. Owned.
I will know the think I am in myself/how-many-ways-I-thing
I think, time more for within’, I look everywhereIOwn
double space [[
I thought I owned my life, my child. I did not have one right to either. I owned frivolity, confetti, glitter and the mindset of a dreamer.
“bam!” Norris yelled, throwing the baseball down onto the pavement.
“You didn’t even really scare me,” sally mutted, hugging her arms to her chest. In the background, Norris threw his hands into the air, “OWNED!”
To be owned is to be nothing. It’s to be naught but the extension of another’s will, to lack a true and defined existence of your own. It is the ultimate humiliation.
1owned = obtained wares nestled exclusively domained
“How likely is it that she will?” “Oh, almost certain…” Matt gestured at a hot dog stand, and they changed direction. “They can flag data so that someone is notified if a particular record is accessed, so pretty soon you may be getting a whole lot more attention than you deserve.” “She took control of my bank accounts yesterday,” Doyle responded, pouring mustard on his hot dog, “but I’m already using cash for everything to stay under the radar.” Matt stifled a laugh; “No, I mean the kind of attention where you are escorted to a room with no wallpaper, and they start breaking you down, like in the movies, until you admit you once owned dirty pictures of Hillary Clinton, or whatever they want you to say!” Doyle smiled also. “But seriously, my friend, you need to be very careful. This could, no, will, get nasty!”
This is something I had owned for quite a while, and no, it wouldn’t be leaving through a crummy yard sale. I knew it had some sort of importance, it was just understanding this importance that I had yet to do. This led everyone to believe it was junk like all the other old halloween costumes and tupperware out there. But somewhere I knew it wasn’t.
sinking down, its hard to own the process when you don’t do it enough and when the words don’t quite come because they’re a little rebellious
Once I was owned.
Once I was held in the palm of another; once I was the cast; once, I was nothing more but the shedded exoskeleton of a creature I wished only to be a part of once more.
Once, I wanted nothing more but to be loved by you.
Once.
I’d be lying if I said I was never a thief. I was for a long period of time. And I was damn good at it.
i owned her, she owned me it was all i could think about. she was in love with me a girl like me and i couldn’t believe that. she held my heart is her beautifully polished hands. i will never forget this.
Most of people judge success of an individual by counting how many things he owned. But, to me this criteria to judge success looks insane. Success should not be determined by what you have but how much you give back to society
You can’t own a view of the channel, but I have my own view of Gastineau Channel… yeah… Juneau. Each day I receive a gift of currents and wind riffles.
Geez, what a loaded word. Are we talking, I own this car or I OWN you. Frankly, owning is such a transient notion. Think Walking Dead, where it’s finders keepers. Nice idea, but doesn’t work out in practice without a culture holding it up.
Authority was hard to fake, but it was especialyl frustrating when you should have it and no one would respect it. These were people who owed you, people that you had protected and worked for your entire life. You OWNED them. They were yours. And yet you never managed to get any respect.
The pair of shoes sat on the shelf, taunting her. Once-white Converse, stained brown by age, holes torn in them. She knew she had to throw them away. But she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. She’d owned them for so long.
He owned a beautiful house before, however, he does not have it anymore because of failure of business.
The thing that I had I never thought were my own. They were given to me, or necessities, but nothing that was something that was “mine”. But then he gave me a gift, a simple small prickly cactus, and this dumb spiky plant was mine. It was the first thing I owned.
I don’t have anything specific for this one. Well, I wish that someday, I may be owned by one beautiful girl who will never let go of me! That’s the one which shall be special to me then.
Hannah owned twelve baseball caps, six pairs of boys cargo pants, at least two dozen T-shirts with all sorts of band logos on them (bands that she listened to, of course), and approximately ten pairs of converse sneakers. She used the word “approximately” for said sneakers because one of those pairs – her favorite pair, to boot, bright blue in color with rainbow laces – had massive holes in the bottoms of both soles and were hardly worn these days, especially not during rainy weather.