Bleeding is like a physical reminder that you are human. Fluid gushes from the wound and all a person can think of is the pain they think they are experiencing even if there isn’t any pain there.
The pain from the past is bleeding from my soul onto the ground in hopes to be washed away. It feels relieveing to let go of stuff I’ve held in for so long. It feels good to free myself from these burdens. However, sometimes I look down at the puddled contents and flashbacks form in my mind. Sometimes they’re so strong, they bring all that fear, dark, and cold again. It’s scary.
my heart is bleeding because Im so hurt right now. I just want you to come and wipe the tears rolling down my face at night . I want you to hold me close and tell me you love me like you did that short time ago when everything was perfect. I want to be with you forever and always, I want to grow old together and have children and grandchildren. I don’t want to be forgotten. My heart must stop bleeding.
It was a warm evening. The sky looked like a nasty crime scene. The sun had bled a brilliant red all over the the wild blue yonder, before disappearing into sea.
The young woman was sprawled on the ground bleeding. She couldn’t get up. Her feet were numb and frozen by the snow. All around her the wind breathed, making the trees rustle. She heard the sound of footsteps crunching into the snow, and a shiver ran up her spine.
Bleeding. Automatically connected with something dark unpleasant. The slaughtering, the light cut. The deep cut. The angled cut. The paper cut. The knife cut. The insult that cuts. It all causes bleeding. Some type of discomfort or pain. No one bleeds beautifully. No ones bleeding leads to happy endings or sweet beginnings. Bleeding out is unnatural. The action is unwelcomed. Enough of that.
Whilst I stand against my window pane, I hear the rhythm of the rain. With each flash that gives me a start, each thunder echos within this bleeding heart. I feel it’s current of energy. I relate it to how I feel when you are with me. And within each cloud, each drop it cries; it stole it’s actions from my eyes.
Bleeding is something I’m doing a lot of lately. I cut my finger while making a salad in the kitchen. Cut the thumb nail in half and gouged deep into my skin. And then a couple days later I was in the kitchen again and my hand slid up against an Indian drawer knob and cut my middle finger open. Wow, lots of blood there.
I never thought that you would die for me, bleeding, on the cross. It was more of a fairy tales, a comfort legend, maybe another religion. After all, how could it be, that you love me and would die for me.
She didn’t notice she was bleeding until someone pointed out quite calmly that her arm was gone. This was when she turned her head and stared at the stump on her arm, and nodded to agree with him.
“Why yes, it appears I am bleeding. I’m armless now.”
I couldn’t really comprehend what was going on, and looked between the two of them. They were strangers to me, but I couldn’t help being concerned enough. I asked if they had any plans of taking her to the hospital.
She just stared at me that it was refreshing that for once, she got to experience having blood gushing out of her.
The two laughed, and they walked away while she left a slowly disappearing blood trail behind her, and I noticed their sillhouettes fading off into the distance, and the girl put up her new arm around the guy’s shoulder.
She cut her hand open and it kept bleeding oil. It bled and bled until a fountain was bursting. A tycoon rolled back in a stained Rolls Royce and said, “Hey, that’s a mighty fine oil well right there. Human, too. Glorious stuff. To keep that going, how much can I pay to own you and get billions?”
With the unctuous stuff still leaking, she flipped him off.
Bleeding is painful. Physically the loss of what makes us live weakens one. Mentally it can mean the loss of who we are or the small, painful loss of a little happiness.
I watched as the blood poured out of her stomach. “What happened? Laura! What happened! Tell Me” I yelled at my sister Laura as she sat beside a bleeding cassie.
“I- I don’t know! I just heard a shot and I ran down….someone ran out and Cassie screamed to me so I called the ambulance, They should be here any moment” Laura paused with tears streaming down her face” I didn’t see,and I don’t know who it was!” I ran to Laura kneeling ‘beside her “Give me some towels” I said in a strangely calm voice. “Cassie!” I yellled “tell me who it was….Please… who was it?” I said between sobs.
“D-d-dad..” Cassie breathed out. Of course thought Laura, why else wouldnt he be in the house yelling for making a mess of things. He always hated us and lately he was acting strangely barely coming home but the past two day he was home, drunk, but he was home and now this happened,
The grains of sand slipped through his fingers as he scrabbled at the ground, trying, in vain, to scoop up the ephemeral specks of life and pour them back into the glass. Jagged edges caught at his fingertips, the frantic, jerky movements sending bright scarlet droplets scattering over the golden surface.
She glanced down, if only briefly, at the bleeding, gaping wound in her hand. Despite her intense dislike of blood, she found herself beginning to stare at it with alarming intensity. Where it had come from, she didn’t know. But it scared her, and she wondered if maybe bigger things than she, or anyone, could comprehend were at play.
She clutched at her stomach, the wound bleeding through her fingers and onto the found below. “You have to…to go on without me,” she said, her voice breaking as the pain threatened to overtake her.
I dropped to my knees in front of her, my tears mixing with the rain. “I won’t leave you,” I said fiercely. “I can’t,”
“You don’t have a choice,” she reached up, resting her palm against my cheek. “Be safe, my love,”
My arm seemed so shallow. The lumpy part right on the shoulder blade was where it was cut into deeper, then deeper some more. But it’s still so shallow somehow. The bleeding stopped but my blood kept on flowing.
Carmine
Sanguine
Living till it drys to dust
Flakes like rust
Thoughts were bleeding
Seeding to another mind
To some other time and place
I read them and I see them in your face
I used to write about this a lot, bleeding of the soul, fire, hearts, minds. The puncturing of consciousness and orientation in the world. I used to write about this, it doesn’t really interest me anymore. People bleed, that’s life. I’m learning. We bleed and we cannot prevent that some droplets are lost to a void or whatever may have you-we just prevent how much is spilt before we say, “no more”.
il fell in love with you and you broke my heart. and all i can think about is watching my bleeding heart ly on the floor every night. and i walk past it sometimes wondering if ill ever have the courage to pick it up again but i never do.
i once bled to death, when i was attacked by a zonbie down by the lake in ari, a town in atlanta I thought i would die…that would be the worst thing that would happen to me i though but i was i was wrong very wrong
I entered the room and saw no one. I called for her and still no answer. She left perhaps, i thought. Or still mad but I couldn’t believ she tried to kill herself. Thats what I saw in the bathroom. She was bleeding all over.
I remember the bleeding and the hurting. I remember feeling like I had tumors in my brain. I could feel it in my heart. and even though this was a long time ago, I feel like the tumors are coming back to life. a slow beating is starting again, and with every pump of my heart I feel blood pouring out of me.
I just wrote about bleeding when I was in my pre sign up phase. I decided to join this website in an effort to become a better speaker. I want to also talk about bleeding. I think of hydrogen peroxide, h202 because it removes blood from clothes. one day after chemistry, organic chemistry lab, I took a small pipet of h202 home with me because I had some blood on a t shirt. Sure enough, i put that shit on and the blood started to fizzle and disappear
Bleeding hearts know that feelings can kill you on the inside. Yes, I am a bleeding heart, but I don’t let it kill me anymore. I just focus on the healing of the internal wounds of suffering for too long.
I’m bleeding out, just sitting here bleeding out all over the goddamn table, the goddamn plates, and our goddamn conversation. Just bleeding out all over what we used to have and what we wanted to be.
The blood spurts from the vein as the doctor makes a wrong cut. A cut that changed a mans life. A cut that won’t stop bleeding. And a cut the will never heal. The doctor will forever live with the guilt of what he has done. He will go to sleep at night imagining that blood, tha last breathe, that one mistake. But he will never be able to take it back. Regret comes with the pouring blood but regret remains after the blood stops pouring.
The times when you bleed the most aren’t necessarily the times you feel pain. You watch red cloud up a towel, and feel worried. Why are we so fragile against small, sharp things?
I was walking on and om just a normal day t the grocery store. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a hippo, a hippo in the middle of the street it attacked me and I started bleeding. All of a sudden I woke up with a toy hippo in my hand and a papercut.
through the glass window i saw him, the man in my dream. he was bleeding, he had a slit wrist with blood pouring out of his eyes like a crying baby. i couldnt think or seam to wrap my mind ar
I’m bleeding. That’s all I can think of. My substance, my literal life blood, is draining out of my body. As my body grows weaker, so do my cries. “Someone… anyone… please, please help!” That’s the last thing I say, then I’m gone. Gone forever, never to hold him in my arms again.
bleeding. some people are frightened by it. i just see it as a big mess, a big bloody mess. i suppose it’s not so bad for smaller injuries, but all i can picture are large gaping wounds with blood pouring out of them.
Bleeding is like a physical reminder that you are human. Fluid gushes from the wound and all a person can think of is the pain they think they are experiencing even if there isn’t any pain there.
The pain from the past is bleeding from my soul onto the ground in hopes to be washed away. It feels relieveing to let go of stuff I’ve held in for so long. It feels good to free myself from these burdens. However, sometimes I look down at the puddled contents and flashbacks form in my mind. Sometimes they’re so strong, they bring all that fear, dark, and cold again. It’s scary.
my heart is bleeding because Im so hurt right now. I just want you to come and wipe the tears rolling down my face at night . I want you to hold me close and tell me you love me like you did that short time ago when everything was perfect. I want to be with you forever and always, I want to grow old together and have children and grandchildren. I don’t want to be forgotten. My heart must stop bleeding.
It was a warm evening. The sky looked like a nasty crime scene. The sun had bled a brilliant red all over the the wild blue yonder, before disappearing into sea.
There was a time that I was hurt, but time is fleeting.
The young woman was sprawled on the ground bleeding. She couldn’t get up. Her feet were numb and frozen by the snow. All around her the wind breathed, making the trees rustle. She heard the sound of footsteps crunching into the snow, and a shiver ran up her spine.
The Government is bleeding the middle class people to dry with their good for nothing policies.
My bleeding heart is heavy
heavy with emotions
that i can not and wish not
to understand.
This underhanded girl
shattered my world
and sent me on a downward spiral
all my vitals are low now
my bleeding heart cannot pump air..
sayonara
Bleeding. Automatically connected with something dark unpleasant. The slaughtering, the light cut. The deep cut. The angled cut. The paper cut. The knife cut. The insult that cuts. It all causes bleeding. Some type of discomfort or pain. No one bleeds beautifully. No ones bleeding leads to happy endings or sweet beginnings. Bleeding out is unnatural. The action is unwelcomed. Enough of that.
Whilst I stand against my window pane, I hear the rhythm of the rain. With each flash that gives me a start, each thunder echos within this bleeding heart. I feel it’s current of energy. I relate it to how I feel when you are with me. And within each cloud, each drop it cries; it stole it’s actions from my eyes.
Bleeding is something I’m doing a lot of lately. I cut my finger while making a salad in the kitchen. Cut the thumb nail in half and gouged deep into my skin. And then a couple days later I was in the kitchen again and my hand slid up against an Indian drawer knob and cut my middle finger open. Wow, lots of blood there.
I never thought that you would die for me, bleeding, on the cross. It was more of a fairy tales, a comfort legend, maybe another religion. After all, how could it be, that you love me and would die for me.
he was bleedig on floor when she came in, he kept bleeding and there was no one to attend him
She didn’t notice she was bleeding until someone pointed out quite calmly that her arm was gone. This was when she turned her head and stared at the stump on her arm, and nodded to agree with him.
“Why yes, it appears I am bleeding. I’m armless now.”
I couldn’t really comprehend what was going on, and looked between the two of them. They were strangers to me, but I couldn’t help being concerned enough. I asked if they had any plans of taking her to the hospital.
She just stared at me that it was refreshing that for once, she got to experience having blood gushing out of her.
The two laughed, and they walked away while she left a slowly disappearing blood trail behind her, and I noticed their sillhouettes fading off into the distance, and the girl put up her new arm around the guy’s shoulder.
She cut her hand open and it kept bleeding oil. It bled and bled until a fountain was bursting. A tycoon rolled back in a stained Rolls Royce and said, “Hey, that’s a mighty fine oil well right there. Human, too. Glorious stuff. To keep that going, how much can I pay to own you and get billions?”
With the unctuous stuff still leaking, she flipped him off.
Bleeding is painful. Physically the loss of what makes us live weakens one. Mentally it can mean the loss of who we are or the small, painful loss of a little happiness.
I watched as the blood poured out of her stomach. “What happened? Laura! What happened! Tell Me” I yelled at my sister Laura as she sat beside a bleeding cassie.
“I- I don’t know! I just heard a shot and I ran down….someone ran out and Cassie screamed to me so I called the ambulance, They should be here any moment” Laura paused with tears streaming down her face” I didn’t see,and I don’t know who it was!” I ran to Laura kneeling ‘beside her “Give me some towels” I said in a strangely calm voice. “Cassie!” I yellled “tell me who it was….Please… who was it?” I said between sobs.
“D-d-dad..” Cassie breathed out. Of course thought Laura, why else wouldnt he be in the house yelling for making a mess of things. He always hated us and lately he was acting strangely barely coming home but the past two day he was home, drunk, but he was home and now this happened,
The grains of sand slipped through his fingers as he scrabbled at the ground, trying, in vain, to scoop up the ephemeral specks of life and pour them back into the glass. Jagged edges caught at his fingertips, the frantic, jerky movements sending bright scarlet droplets scattering over the golden surface.
She glanced down, if only briefly, at the bleeding, gaping wound in her hand. Despite her intense dislike of blood, she found herself beginning to stare at it with alarming intensity. Where it had come from, she didn’t know. But it scared her, and she wondered if maybe bigger things than she, or anyone, could comprehend were at play.
She clutched at her stomach, the wound bleeding through her fingers and onto the found below. “You have to…to go on without me,” she said, her voice breaking as the pain threatened to overtake her.
I dropped to my knees in front of her, my tears mixing with the rain. “I won’t leave you,” I said fiercely. “I can’t,”
“You don’t have a choice,” she reached up, resting her palm against my cheek. “Be safe, my love,”
My arm seemed so shallow. The lumpy part right on the shoulder blade was where it was cut into deeper, then deeper some more. But it’s still so shallow somehow. The bleeding stopped but my blood kept on flowing.
Carmine
Sanguine
Living till it drys to dust
Flakes like rust
Thoughts were bleeding
Seeding to another mind
To some other time and place
I read them and I see them in your face
I used to write about this a lot, bleeding of the soul, fire, hearts, minds. The puncturing of consciousness and orientation in the world. I used to write about this, it doesn’t really interest me anymore. People bleed, that’s life. I’m learning. We bleed and we cannot prevent that some droplets are lost to a void or whatever may have you-we just prevent how much is spilt before we say, “no more”.
Bleeding
Bloody
Muddy
Brine
Sticks like salt
Quick to lick
Tangs like copper
Or is it lime
Running out of wicking time
il fell in love with you and you broke my heart. and all i can think about is watching my bleeding heart ly on the floor every night. and i walk past it sometimes wondering if ill ever have the courage to pick it up again but i never do.
i once bled to death, when i was attacked by a zonbie down by the lake in ari, a town in atlanta I thought i would die…that would be the worst thing that would happen to me i though but i was i was wrong very wrong
I entered the room and saw no one. I called for her and still no answer. She left perhaps, i thought. Or still mad but I couldn’t believ she tried to kill herself. Thats what I saw in the bathroom. She was bleeding all over.
I remember the bleeding and the hurting. I remember feeling like I had tumors in my brain. I could feel it in my heart. and even though this was a long time ago, I feel like the tumors are coming back to life. a slow beating is starting again, and with every pump of my heart I feel blood pouring out of me.
I just wrote about bleeding when I was in my pre sign up phase. I decided to join this website in an effort to become a better speaker. I want to also talk about bleeding. I think of hydrogen peroxide, h202 because it removes blood from clothes. one day after chemistry, organic chemistry lab, I took a small pipet of h202 home with me because I had some blood on a t shirt. Sure enough, i put that shit on and the blood started to fizzle and disappear
Bleeding hearts know that feelings can kill you on the inside. Yes, I am a bleeding heart, but I don’t let it kill me anymore. I just focus on the healing of the internal wounds of suffering for too long.
I’m bleeding out, just sitting here bleeding out all over the goddamn table, the goddamn plates, and our goddamn conversation. Just bleeding out all over what we used to have and what we wanted to be.
okmonâmesaigneetçajenesaispascommentleréparer
The blood spurts from the vein as the doctor makes a wrong cut. A cut that changed a mans life. A cut that won’t stop bleeding. And a cut the will never heal. The doctor will forever live with the guilt of what he has done. He will go to sleep at night imagining that blood, tha last breathe, that one mistake. But he will never be able to take it back. Regret comes with the pouring blood but regret remains after the blood stops pouring.
The times when you bleed the most aren’t necessarily the times you feel pain. You watch red cloud up a towel, and feel worried. Why are we so fragile against small, sharp things?
I was walking on and om just a normal day t the grocery store. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a hippo, a hippo in the middle of the street it attacked me and I started bleeding. All of a sudden I woke up with a toy hippo in my hand and a papercut.
The intimate relationship between birth and death is a bleeding line from which all possibilities seem endless.
through the glass window i saw him, the man in my dream. he was bleeding, he had a slit wrist with blood pouring out of his eyes like a crying baby. i couldnt think or seam to wrap my mind ar
bleeding
I’m bleeding. That’s all I can think of. My substance, my literal life blood, is draining out of my body. As my body grows weaker, so do my cries. “Someone… anyone… please, please help!” That’s the last thing I say, then I’m gone. Gone forever, never to hold him in my arms again.
bleeding. some people are frightened by it. i just see it as a big mess, a big bloody mess. i suppose it’s not so bad for smaller injuries, but all i can picture are large gaping wounds with blood pouring out of them.