“Don’t frown so much,” he said smilingly but unconvincingly, giggling childishly at the splint wrapped around his wrist, barely containing the veritable shrapnel of shattered bone and gore that he was so certain was underneath. It didn’t seem to bother him.
HEALING THE WOUND. STOP BLEEDING. BANDAGE NEVER STAYS IN PLACE, IT IS ALWAYS ON THE MOVE. ALL THE TECHNOLOGY IN THE WORLD DOESN’T SEEM TO KEEP THE BANGAGE IN PLACE. WHAT’S THE DEAL WITH THIS? WHY IS SOMETHING THAT IS SUPPOSED TO HEAL ON THE MOVE AT ALL TIMES. I DON’T SEE WHY A BANDAGE WOULD BE SUCH A MOVEABLE OBJECT. IF YOU COULD DO IT DIFFERENTLY WHAT WOULD IT LOOK LIKE? WOULD IT BE SPECIALIZED FOR HTE KIND OF INJURY IT WAS MEANT TO HEEL? I WONDER.
the cuts we encounter do not always need a real bandage but sometimes require a little more thought. sometimes we need compassion to heal invisible wounds.
bandage was probably the word I used the most. to myselrf of course. I used bandages to0 cover up the scars, but, deep down, I wanted someone to see them, to pity me and save me.
I knew I was lost in that freaky little habit, it was the only way to feel clean, but I spent way too much money on bandages.
I can’t feel my arm, but I think it’s ok. I can hear grandma somewhere behind me, so I think it’s ok. I can’t see anything because of the bandage over my eyes, but I think it’s ok. The car crash was really loud, but I think it’s ok. My left side is wet and warm, but I think it’s ok.
“I’m sorry, you’ve lost your arm.”
But I think it’s ok.
“I really don’t want to write about that,” she said.
“Just write,” her teacher said.
“I don’t trust you. I don’t like you,” she said.
“I know. I don’t care.”
“Don’t frown so much,” he said smilingly but unconvincingly, giggling childishly at the splint wrapped around his wrist, barely containing the veritable shrapnel of shattered bone and gore that he was so certain was underneath. It didn’t seem to bother him.
By AMC on 01.03.2009
all that protects your fragile
heart
is a bandage
of rib bones.
By won on 01.03.2009
wrapped around your eyes
you can’t see
they block all life
from entering
into your head
blood circling in all
your vision,
you’re lost,
gone forever,
but no, they hold you in place,
and they won’t let you go
as much as you beg them to
By fallenpanda on 01.03.2009
HEALING THE WOUND. STOP BLEEDING. BANDAGE NEVER STAYS IN PLACE, IT IS ALWAYS ON THE MOVE. ALL THE TECHNOLOGY IN THE WORLD DOESN’T SEEM TO KEEP THE BANGAGE IN PLACE. WHAT’S THE DEAL WITH THIS? WHY IS SOMETHING THAT IS SUPPOSED TO HEAL ON THE MOVE AT ALL TIMES. I DON’T SEE WHY A BANDAGE WOULD BE SUCH A MOVEABLE OBJECT. IF YOU COULD DO IT DIFFERENTLY WHAT WOULD IT LOOK LIKE? WOULD IT BE SPECIALIZED FOR HTE KIND OF INJURY IT WAS MEANT TO HEEL? I WONDER.
By ALAN TIDWELL on 01.03.2009
Something to cover a wound to help it heal.
By john on 01.03.2009
i need bandage to bound my soul
By d.s. on 01.03.2009
one word can change a mind from hate. one word of thanks can melt a haters heart. one word
By jay on 01.03.2009
the cuts we encounter do not always need a real bandage but sometimes require a little more thought. sometimes we need compassion to heal invisible wounds.
By Nick Smiley on 01.03.2009
bandage was probably the word I used the most. to myselrf of course. I used bandages to0 cover up the scars, but, deep down, I wanted someone to see them, to pity me and save me.
I knew I was lost in that freaky little habit, it was the only way to feel clean, but I spent way too much money on bandages.
By pseudo-writer on 01.03.2009
pain the annoyance of bodily harm to hold on to one miserable piece of skin when it doesn’t really mater but it hurts like a wasp.
By Ethan on 01.03.2009
Shawah. Pazam! Scoot! BANDAGE! DAMAGE! SAUSAGE!
By paddy on 01.03.2009
I can’t feel my arm, but I think it’s ok. I can hear grandma somewhere behind me, so I think it’s ok. I can’t see anything because of the bandage over my eyes, but I think it’s ok. The car crash was really loud, but I think it’s ok. My left side is wet and warm, but I think it’s ok.
“I’m sorry, you’ve lost your arm.”
But I think it’s ok.
By Kel on 01.03.2009
“I really don’t want to write about that,” she said.
“Just write,” her teacher said.
“I don’t trust you. I don’t like you,” she said.
“I know. I don’t care.”
By goose on 01.03.2009
Heal me up, oh wise shaman of the north. Take your staff, your herbal infusion. Cleanse my body, my soul.
By Rachel on 01.03.2009