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He was a worn soul, but that didn’t mean that he always knew what the best thing in the world was because he knows all. He was seasoned if wyou will
By trkstr67 on 08.25.2014
She was sitting by the edge of the bed playing with the worn edge of the quilt. She remembered when that quilt had kept her warm as a child. It felt heavy on her small body, and now it was nearly in tatters, just as she was. She had become this old woman who sits and thinks about how quickly the years passed her by, and how she didn’t pay attention when she should have to all the things that she wanted.
By Heather on 08.25.2014
Like an old worn shoe. That’s how I felt. I could see his eyes on her, that young pretty thing. Across from me he sat, detached and elusive such as our fading bonds of matrimony.
By g on 08.25.2014
old, not new, friend, clothing,worms, n, hot day,o, narwhal, horn
By Sky on 08.25.2014
….. wow, i feel stupid, it said “dont think” so i didnt, i just said what came to mind, if i knew what it ment, i would of done MUCH better
I’ve worn through you time and again. What can I say that hasn’t already been shouted from the rooftops. You don’t agree and I can’t change your mind. Don’t worry, though. I’ll try until the winds stop blowing. Until the waves stop rolling in with the tide. Goodnight for now.
By ZBooty on 08.25.2014
the old jacket was hanging on the back of the chair, old and a bit worn, it was the boys favorite, but now it was too small, and torn, it was time to say goodbye.
There isn’t much that she wants in the world except that she be happy with the way she lives.
It’s probably much harder than it is seemingly is but she wants to believe that one day, she won’t be as worn out by the world as she is now. Maybe one day, she’ll be able to meet that person in the eye and tell him that she’s happy with her life.
By Jess on 08.25.2014
she had worn the party out. all the way out. it was done–signed, sealed, delivered. she looked back at what she’d left—the party, laying there lifeless. she attempted to go back and save the party only to learn that it was too far gone. there was no revitalizing. the party was officially over.
By Safon on 08.25.2014
agkls;dlgk;saldkgj;laskjglkeawgtklngm v’lwAKGNL L W ‘v’v langvalgn ea vvdfgfdg dfgfdfdgfgggdsfgfgfffgfgfgggg fdggggdfgggggdgvbb fddshjgdfgm ;klrermn’l b rtklbs’nbn br54re b s’lfdg b’lkeypb ‘
By CP on 08.25.2014
My god my eyes are tired. I’ve stared at this screen for the last what feels like six days and nothing of any value has come out. What are my truths? What do I want to put on paper that reaches and touches people? What reaches and touches me? Fear, fragility, vulnerability, and people trying their damnedest not so succumb to their inner demons. The places most dark in their life.
By Beka URL on 08.25.2014
The fabric was thin, the color faded. Everything she remembered about her mother was in this dress, but it had now withered away into a vast nothingness.
She saw herself in the dress.
By Caitlin on 08.25.2014
Everything we own is worn. Most things between us have been worn by at least one person before us. For him, small males, for her, even smaller. We wear each others. Past girlfriends and boyfriends and in betweens have worn them as well. Some were found on the street. Some given as gifts. Most bought with pennies scraped together. Even though we own much less than most people, we still don’t wear everything and pass them on to other people. The fabric of the world.
By Kit on 08.25.2014
the worn man, wears down. he knows not of the haven of serenity yet. he only know the desert’s emptiness of ignorance and how he finds mirages of knowledge.
By dalton withers on 08.25.2014
Worn holes in it. Worn till it falls apart. Not quite able to let go because the feel of it in his fingers had been comforting, like a mother’s hug. A tug when times were rough or the way uncertain. Some sentiment stops him. He’ll keep a shred of it even when all that’s left is a threadbare fragment. That holey heart of his on a literal sleeve for all of us to see. To bear witness. So I have seen, so it may be.
By Intuition on 08.25.2014
The ground beneath her feet is wet and with the worn soles of her shoes, she can feel the water seeping in through; she wiggles her toes and she smiles.
Holes were slowly encroaching on slightly less worn fabric. Jack stuck his thumb through one of them, and a few fingers through another, creating mini mittens as he stretched the hoodie and wiggled to get it on.
By 沙俠 on 08.25.2014
a division of Identity Crisis, Inc.