decay. rust. death. a combination of all three scents carried on the stale wind, and caught her attention like a backhand to the face. still young, but childhood is so far away. this kind of pain can’t be covered, can’t be treated by the soft kiss of a doting mother. this is reality, and in reality, you’re made to bleed out until your own shadow drowns in shades of battered brass.
“holy shit,” he groaned as he removed the layers of bandages one by one. the damage was far more extensive than he had imagined. the walls of the tiny room seemed to be closing in on them as the stench of rotting flesh filled his nose and mouth. he swallowed the first of what would be nearly endless waves of vomit. the wounds were not fresh, the bandages filthy and the pained look of helplessness the face of the child’s mother let him know that the worst was yet to come.
It is a thing you put when you have a wound. It is usually made up of cotton and plastic which makes the wound heal faster. It can also be use in any part of the body aside from putting in in your wounds.
bandages, what i need for my heart right now. it has been broken, torn, cracked, and hurt. i wish there was a way to make it stronger, but it feels like with every injury it just gets weaker. i can’t take it much longer.
on me knee is a would I received while attempting my first basketball dunk. I listened to Mackelmore and with my Jordans I approached the laces hanging dangling from the sky. The air bubble propelled me towards my dreams of being a cool kid. As I grabbed the rim, i felt like i was pulling myself up off the ground for the first time. Until my world came crashing down.
Bandages cover up your wounds, but the fact that it hurts is still there and no matter how many bandages you use, it wont cover it up. Also, it leaves sticky thingies.
it’s really really important to have something in the house in case you get an injury that involves blood. Really. Because, who wants to go around with toilet paper wrapped around their finger because they got bit by the gerbil… again. You don’t have to explain a bandage on a finger.
I knew I was awake, but I couldn’t see a thing. My eyes were open but everything was black. I lay perfectly still, testing my body to see if I could move. I could wiggle my toes and lift my legs. Every movement hurt. I raised an arm to feel my face. I touch something soft and spongy. Bandages. My face was completely covered in bandages.
When you think of me
I hope you think of fresh linen strips
I hope you think of all the times you hurt
and bled
and tears were shed
When you think of me
I hope you think of all the times
I held you close
And my pure white cloth
absorbed your pain
together we are imperfect
I kept going, kept cutting. Not stopping for any reason. I didnt have any reason not to. At this point, if I put bandages on all my bruises, my arm would be covered.
Bullets land and hit my teammates all around me, its a mess. They flanked us and now we’re fighting on two fronts, I shoot my last rounds in my clip. I pop the magazine out and load another one in, its my last one. An enemy runs across the field and takes his bayonet and pierces my teammate, I desperately unload my clip into him while I scream in anguish. As the enemy drops, I sprint towards my teammate and hold his head up with my hands. I look into his eyes as he fades from this world into the next. I shout for someone, anyone, but nothing can keep him from the other side.
Wow, bandages. I was expecting a cooler word like “love” or something I could write about for days; well, I only have 60 seconds. Anyway, the word “bandages” makes me think about when I was a child and I would actually spend time outside as opposed to being on the computer.
The things people use to cover up their wounds and that will prevent their wounds from becoming worse. Hopefully helping the person with the wounds to recover. They come in different colors. They should have bandages for a wider variety of skin tones.
Bandages have proven to be very useful, especially my 8th grade year when I had broken my arm. I was charged abut 8,000$ for what the hospital had done but from what I saw, I could have done this all on my own with bandages and a bit of confidence. I just find it funny the idea paying so much simply for those bandages.
Wow, bandages. I was expecting a cooler word like “love” or something; something I could write about for days. Anyway, bandages immediately take be back to when I was a child and I would actually play outside as opposed to sitting at my computer desk.
I wore a bandage when I got a cut in the second grade. It made a kid throw up. You know, seeing my cut, not the fact that I was wearing a bandage. Sometimes, bandages make me queasy though. The way they seem to magnetize and collect all of the surrounding dirt in the air. But sometimes, it’s just too much effort to make self-filtering bandages.
I always carry around bandages in my purse. Knowing me with my constant anxiety nail and skin tearing that I do to my fingers, it sure does come in handy.
Especially when I buy new shoes; I always carry an extra pair of flats and of course more bandages because my feet take a while to break into the new groove.
sometimes we get hurt, actually we all get hurt whether on the inside or out there is a wound we sometimes cant always see and bandages are always there to pick us back up. bandages are like our secret warriors. hiding in different places around our house or in our parents’ bags always willing to come out and save us in situations that we are out of control with. bandages provide that extra comfort, that dull packaging gives us hope that we can someday take it off and become independent, separated from our bandage that only supported us.
Blood soaks through cotton taken from the hem of a worn out shirt. It reminds me that there are things to feel. There is something in me that keeps me alive in the most literal and tangible sense.
Only the most fragile of bandages could have saved her from the wound that had severed the connection between her conscious mind and her instinctual soul.
bANDages are used to help heal wounds, inflicted from whatever cause, A bandage can be metaphorical, as in an idea that temporarily covers up some sort of greivance. For example, chocolate ice cream and mean girls is an excellent bandage for a bad break-up.
band
ages
throughout the ages of time there always stood a marching band of tiny grasshoppers. These grasshoppers were no ordinary grasshopers but the musically gifted species that only comes from the western most end of New Zealand.
i have bandages all over my foot. maybe is due to the difficulties of a hard day. 2049580012 steps all along ain’t something easy to do every day. Someday I’ll manage to defeat the shivers at night after a long day of walking.
well i guess i think of band aids like when i was a kid and they had all the different characters on them like sponge bob or princesses. and then i think of like when i broke my wrist or when i my broke her elbow and we have them in our closet and they should be able to fix hearts too because that’s the most common broken body part i believe. it’s sad but necessary, and tim is up
I run out in the field, crowned by a setting sun, and rip off the bandages covering my entire body. I expect the blood and the scars, but it’s all faded. The last rays catch the blemishes, so that I am reminded of the past two years. But I don’t feel the pain, and I certainly look like the naive girl I was once upon an August night.
bandages cover up our wounds so that they can heal. to bandage is not to fix, but hopefully to aid in the healing process. make sure your life is not one big bandage.
The bandages were worn and tattered, as if a war had been waged upon their frayed cloth. She wore them well, considering the circumstances. They covered the worst of her wounds, yet her eyes told all.
Ace. Sticky. Tacky. Tacky like blue eyeshadow. Or not really like blue eyeshadow. This is a public service announcement. If you’re not a stripper named Cotton candy, blue eyeshadow is not okay. It shouldn’t even be legal.
i really don’t know what to say about bandages. thing is, i haven’t really tried putting them much on my wounds. except when i was operated, i guess. i remember having stacks of it
His everything hurt. He winced, scratching at the cloth that was warped around his head, it didn’t help much that they felt itchy too. The man sighed, maybe next time he would be a little more careful when blowing up things.
I’ve never had a bandage. It goes along with childhood, with cop shows, with stories of intense athletes: “Oh, Mom, could I have a bandage,” “Let me just bandage that for you,” “And then I bandaged my tendon.” Thinking about it, I’ve rarely even seen a bandage in real life. I get a band-aid for the little bruises and scrapes that I should be so lucky to have encountered
I’ve always hated the feeling of taking a Band-Aid off. Don’t we all? I guess, but even despite the horrible childhood nightmares inspired by taking those damned things off, we need them. Or at least, that’s what our parents say. I’m not sure why I need them, but without bandages I’ve always felt a little naked. I might be hurt, but the pain is lessened when I know it’s hidden away, safe.
i wrapped another set of bandages around my open wounds. again, it happened again. i thought i would be stronger than it. but i failed, once again i failed. i cut myself and there was no going back. i knew i needed stitches but that would be admitting that i failed and i wasn’t willing to go to that place. i wanted to be stronger than my demons but clearly i am not.
decay. rust. death. a combination of all three scents carried on the stale wind, and caught her attention like a backhand to the face. still young, but childhood is so far away. this kind of pain can’t be covered, can’t be treated by the soft kiss of a doting mother. this is reality, and in reality, you’re made to bleed out until your own shadow drowns in shades of battered brass.
“holy shit,” he groaned as he removed the layers of bandages one by one. the damage was far more extensive than he had imagined. the walls of the tiny room seemed to be closing in on them as the stench of rotting flesh filled his nose and mouth. he swallowed the first of what would be nearly endless waves of vomit. the wounds were not fresh, the bandages filthy and the pained look of helplessness the face of the child’s mother let him know that the worst was yet to come.
circumcision
broken hearts, broken dreams
in love with pain stroking screams
circumcision
It is a thing you put when you have a wound. It is usually made up of cotton and plastic which makes the wound heal faster. It can also be use in any part of the body aside from putting in in your wounds.
bandages, what i need for my heart right now. it has been broken, torn, cracked, and hurt. i wish there was a way to make it stronger, but it feels like with every injury it just gets weaker. i can’t take it much longer.
are what hold the world together for mother and child when those little things happen that hurt and the child finds itself held by
on me knee is a would I received while attempting my first basketball dunk. I listened to Mackelmore and with my Jordans I approached the laces hanging dangling from the sky. The air bubble propelled me towards my dreams of being a cool kid. As I grabbed the rim, i felt like i was pulling myself up off the ground for the first time. Until my world came crashing down.
Bandages cover up your wounds, but the fact that it hurts is still there and no matter how many bandages you use, it wont cover it up. Also, it leaves sticky thingies.
The bandage to my soul. Reading, that is. Reading books, any book at all. Soothes my soul, and repairs it. It can be so therapeutic.
it’s really really important to have something in the house in case you get an injury that involves blood. Really. Because, who wants to go around with toilet paper wrapped around their finger because they got bit by the gerbil… again. You don’t have to explain a bandage on a finger.
I knew I was awake, but I couldn’t see a thing. My eyes were open but everything was black. I lay perfectly still, testing my body to see if I could move. I could wiggle my toes and lift my legs. Every movement hurt. I raised an arm to feel my face. I touch something soft and spongy. Bandages. My face was completely covered in bandages.
When you think of me
I hope you think of fresh linen strips
I hope you think of all the times you hurt
and bled
and tears were shed
When you think of me
I hope you think of all the times
I held you close
And my pure white cloth
absorbed your pain
together we are imperfect
I kept going, kept cutting. Not stopping for any reason. I didnt have any reason not to. At this point, if I put bandages on all my bruises, my arm would be covered.
Bullets land and hit my teammates all around me, its a mess. They flanked us and now we’re fighting on two fronts, I shoot my last rounds in my clip. I pop the magazine out and load another one in, its my last one. An enemy runs across the field and takes his bayonet and pierces my teammate, I desperately unload my clip into him while I scream in anguish. As the enemy drops, I sprint towards my teammate and hold his head up with my hands. I look into his eyes as he fades from this world into the next. I shout for someone, anyone, but nothing can keep him from the other side.
Wow, bandages. I was expecting a cooler word like “love” or something I could write about for days; well, I only have 60 seconds. Anyway, the word “bandages” makes me think about when I was a child and I would actually spend time outside as opposed to being on the computer.
The things people use to cover up their wounds and that will prevent their wounds from becoming worse. Hopefully helping the person with the wounds to recover. They come in different colors. They should have bandages for a wider variety of skin tones.
Bandages have proven to be very useful, especially my 8th grade year when I had broken my arm. I was charged abut 8,000$ for what the hospital had done but from what I saw, I could have done this all on my own with bandages and a bit of confidence. I just find it funny the idea paying so much simply for those bandages.
Wow, bandages. I was expecting a cooler word like “love” or something; something I could write about for days. Anyway, bandages immediately take be back to when I was a child and I would actually play outside as opposed to sitting at my computer desk.
I wore a bandage when I got a cut in the second grade. It made a kid throw up. You know, seeing my cut, not the fact that I was wearing a bandage. Sometimes, bandages make me queasy though. The way they seem to magnetize and collect all of the surrounding dirt in the air. But sometimes, it’s just too much effort to make self-filtering bandages.
I always carry around bandages in my purse. Knowing me with my constant anxiety nail and skin tearing that I do to my fingers, it sure does come in handy.
Especially when I buy new shoes; I always carry an extra pair of flats and of course more bandages because my feet take a while to break into the new groove.
They lay in a pile at his feet, rolled up to hide the stains. It wasn’t easy hiding blood, he always wondered how murderers did it.
I’ll kiss you all you want,
anywhere you need,
you’re still going to need something to cover that bullet hole.
sometimes we get hurt, actually we all get hurt whether on the inside or out there is a wound we sometimes cant always see and bandages are always there to pick us back up. bandages are like our secret warriors. hiding in different places around our house or in our parents’ bags always willing to come out and save us in situations that we are out of control with. bandages provide that extra comfort, that dull packaging gives us hope that we can someday take it off and become independent, separated from our bandage that only supported us.
Blood soaks through cotton taken from the hem of a worn out shirt. It reminds me that there are things to feel. There is something in me that keeps me alive in the most literal and tangible sense.
Only the most fragile of bandages could have saved her from the wound that had severed the connection between her conscious mind and her instinctual soul.
bANDages are used to help heal wounds, inflicted from whatever cause, A bandage can be metaphorical, as in an idea that temporarily covers up some sort of greivance. For example, chocolate ice cream and mean girls is an excellent bandage for a bad break-up.
band
ages
throughout the ages of time there always stood a marching band of tiny grasshoppers. These grasshoppers were no ordinary grasshopers but the musically gifted species that only comes from the western most end of New Zealand.
injure kid blood baby crying nurse hospital colors dinosaur green tiger nails toe finger knee hurts rock
i have bandages all over my foot. maybe is due to the difficulties of a hard day. 2049580012 steps all along ain’t something easy to do every day. Someday I’ll manage to defeat the shivers at night after a long day of walking.
well i guess i think of band aids like when i was a kid and they had all the different characters on them like sponge bob or princesses. and then i think of like when i broke my wrist or when i my broke her elbow and we have them in our closet and they should be able to fix hearts too because that’s the most common broken body part i believe. it’s sad but necessary, and tim is up
when you’re wounded, you need bandage. can you use it when you’re brokenhearted?
I run out in the field, crowned by a setting sun, and rip off the bandages covering my entire body. I expect the blood and the scars, but it’s all faded. The last rays catch the blemishes, so that I am reminded of the past two years. But I don’t feel the pain, and I certainly look like the naive girl I was once upon an August night.
bandages cover up our wounds so that they can heal. to bandage is not to fix, but hopefully to aid in the healing process. make sure your life is not one big bandage.
The bandages were worn and tattered, as if a war had been waged upon their frayed cloth. She wore them well, considering the circumstances. They covered the worst of her wounds, yet her eyes told all.
Ace. Sticky. Tacky. Tacky like blue eyeshadow. Or not really like blue eyeshadow. This is a public service announcement. If you’re not a stripper named Cotton candy, blue eyeshadow is not okay. It shouldn’t even be legal.
i really don’t know what to say about bandages. thing is, i haven’t really tried putting them much on my wounds. except when i was operated, i guess. i remember having stacks of it
His everything hurt. He winced, scratching at the cloth that was warped around his head, it didn’t help much that they felt itchy too. The man sighed, maybe next time he would be a little more careful when blowing up things.
I’ve never had a bandage. It goes along with childhood, with cop shows, with stories of intense athletes: “Oh, Mom, could I have a bandage,” “Let me just bandage that for you,” “And then I bandaged my tendon.” Thinking about it, I’ve rarely even seen a bandage in real life. I get a band-aid for the little bruises and scrapes that I should be so lucky to have encountered
I’ve always hated the feeling of taking a Band-Aid off. Don’t we all? I guess, but even despite the horrible childhood nightmares inspired by taking those damned things off, we need them. Or at least, that’s what our parents say. I’m not sure why I need them, but without bandages I’ve always felt a little naked. I might be hurt, but the pain is lessened when I know it’s hidden away, safe.
i wrapped another set of bandages around my open wounds. again, it happened again. i thought i would be stronger than it. but i failed, once again i failed. i cut myself and there was no going back. i knew i needed stitches but that would be admitting that i failed and i wasn’t willing to go to that place. i wanted to be stronger than my demons but clearly i am not.