The dirt flew past my face and caught the strands of my golden hair and brushed them back. Fluffy was the best rabbit I had ever had, and the tears seeped down my face and dropped down to the ground. He was next to me but he didn’t offer his support. Some friend I thought angrily, as I tore up the ground. The burial proceeded as thus, and I walked away in the rain. The pain was so vast, like the ocean on a beach day. I remembered the way Fluffy brushed my hands for carrots, and I bit back a moan. Death was too painful for me.
Bury me,
bury me,
buryme.
I’m going farther underground,
why not just fill the hole.
trap me down here
I’ll be ok
I always have
always will.
Life’s a gamble
and I already know I’ve lost.
So do it
drown my screams
fill the hole
I’ve got nothing else to lose.
Do it
if you can
I’m already burried deep
finish the job.
Come on,
lets go out with a bang.
bury a body. bury your feelings. bury your thoughts. your emotions. burying something is just hiding it, waiting for it to return. knowing you can always go back to it. it won’t disappear. it is never gone for good. it is just hidden for the time being. a way of an escape, for as long as needed. people bury things for different reasons.
She buried his odd in a shallow grave, careful to not let his toes peak through the earthy clay. Next time, she though to herself, she would remember to dig the grave first ather than have to hide the body as she tore into the earth with her shovel.
She walked outside clutching the red box in her hand. She was going to bury it under the maple tree. Tears streamed down her face as she thought about losing the box’s precious contents, but she shuddered with fear to think about what would happen if anyone ever knew what was inside.
bury the dead bury the hatchet bury feelings into an emotionless self you are not the ice queen the feelings are there buried deep within screaming to find the right person to hear them out to hear the truth of the
IF I COULD ONLY BURY MY MEMORIES OF YOU, I WOULD HAVE DONE IT A LONG TIME AGO
IF I COULD ONLY BURY MY UNRECIPROCATED FEELINGS FOR YOU, I WOULD HAVE DONE IT AGES AGO
IF I COULD ONLY BURY THE LONELINESS AND DESPERATION I FEEL FOR NOT BEING WANTED BY YOU
I WOULD HAVE DONE IT AS SOON AS I COULD
cut her down and bury her deep
deep in the ground, standing on her feet
impossible for her to ever find sleep
bury the site with a willow tree
and here forever this willow tree weeps
I shoved the shovel into the cold hard dirt ground and came up with some dirt. I looked behind me at my dead Father a trickle of blood coming from the corner of his mouth. “Just keep going.” I told myself “Don’t look back.”
the jury under the fury of the night to make it all right but just because its out of sight doesent mean its right because that just builds and builds and then sparks fights and no new lights can be found until you dig deep into the ground of you heart and yourself and see what you come up with and what you can learn to cope with through yourself without moping or doping or hurting because the power inside yourself you dont know until you dig deep.
He was burried besides his wife, as he had always wanted. It was a serene scene; the sky was blue, the breeze was softly blowing through the trees and the flowers were just starting to bloom. It was just as it was supposed to be
I sat down and put on music. Maybe the noise would help me bury the thoughts going through my head. I turned up the volume to a near-deafening level, and it seemed to help, at least a little bit.
Under the ground. That’s where I would go. The rain, purified by the earth’s pores. The sun, not artificial or stolen away. Not overheated, and not cooled down. Under the ground. In a world where I belong. Because I have been buried all my life.
She’s dead.
I mean. The body’s right there.
What are we going to do about it–
NO SHUT UP. Nothing happened.
Nothing.
We’ll just bury it. No one will know.
But what–
SHUT. UP. God, let me think–
your dead they never wanted to be seen anyways. They wish they were never alive because they now feel so free. It’s not a matter of not being happy in life, just happier in death.
people bury the things they loved most of all, so it can’t hurt them anymore, but as she stares out into the foggy crystal sky she wishes that she hadn’t. so what if remembering hurt even more than silence? at least then the memories that she kept would never fade. at least then she could have, however faint, a recollection of happiness in all its glorious light. she could have fed and lived off of that, rather than remaining in the dank darkness of self-imposed isolation. she’d buried all her emotions and regrets and now, she feels nothing.
If we try very hard, we all have the power to bury the bad experiences of our lives. Put up those walls, if you will, or another mask. Whatever it takes to find happiness.
Bury me with it, like the Modest Mouse song. I wonder what he was talking about in that song, you would think I’d know it better since they’re my favourite band and all. I just realized I’ve said nothing about the word above so here it goes: the dead are buried, emotions are buried, mistakes, the past, cat poop, dog bones, dead goldfish; bury is morbid, depressed. Hands are buried in pockets, wet eyes in Egyptian cotton pillowcases, chocolate in volcano cakes, sequentially.
Anne leaned on her shovel, wiping the sweat from her brow as she gazed down into the hole in the dirt. Hours of labor, and they seemed to produce such little result. It wasn’t yet six feet. She sighed and plunged the shovel back into the soil.
The pain is infinite, choking him to the point of suffocation. He pulls himself along the floor, the door seeming to move farther and farther away. He cries out, white hot agony flaring down his body in a ruthless shudder.
He finally reaches the exit, hands jiggling the handle, but it’s been locked. The panic sinks in, taking hold with an iron-vise grip and he turns, collapsing against the steel door.
He’ll come for me, he thinks. He always does.
But a steady beeping catches his attention, numbers ticking down slowly.
9, 8, 7, 6…
And he realizes that Bruce won’t be coming for him this time. At the time he needs him most, he isn’t there to save him. His son.
3, 2, 1-
The world explodes in white, before the world crumbles and buries him in darkness.
Sometimes I want to bury myself inside a sea of pillows and blankets and live the childhood I had always wish I had. Forts, slumber parties, hot chocolate, and loving parenthood.
bury me in the sky among the angels and the birds. I will float above with souls of the dead that have risen. And look down upon those who have not yet realized that death will be their way out
It was ages ago that we did that. I had almost forgotten, really. But as soon as the dirt turned over and the silver tin foil peaked out at me, I remembered everything. The buried treasures were still there, tokens of a lost childhood.
I bury myself in the kayos that surrounds me for it makes me feel important. I love the feeling of people working together for a common goal. It’s too bad something bad has to happen for people to have something to work against but they also must have something worth fighting for.
It was time to bury the past behind them, where it belonged. It was haunting their future, and she couldn’t possibly imagine another day feeling like someone was tearing out her heart every time she tried to breathe in. It was miserable. What kind of horrible person inflicts that kind of physical damage onto someone? It was unfair.
The land beneath her stood stacked neatly on either side of the grave.
She held a rose in her hand–a yellow thing, starting to wilt and curl at the edges. Her father’s casket rested in front of her, nestled in that moist earth.
She opened her mouth. No words came out. Instead, she threw in her rose and the first handful of earth.
I bury my head in the pillowcase and inhale the comforting scent of my own bed.
The sun is peeking through my curtains and the space heater woke me up a little early, but I don’t really mind.
This is the first morning in a long string of mornings that I’ve been happy. I’ve had a wonderful twenty four hours.
And I was ready to start another twenty four hours.
We fell for each other one by one
Dominos in games that nobody won.
I fell for you, and you did the same
But the one that you chose was not of my name.
We went down the line, each falling for the next
Stuck in a game called the Domino Effect.
We lay in a mess we couldn’t get out of,
Buried by our own foolish one-sided love.
Sometimes I wish to bury my thoughts, myself, the weight of my burden. And so I do. I bury these things that I can’t say or talk about. I take them and bury them deep within myself. The only problem is that sometimes things can wash up. The sea of sadness I dwell inside will sometimes uncovers all the secrets that I try desperately to hide away.
I never buried something too deep to not be able to retrieve. I’m scare of losing things forever. I try to keep them close, even when I want to get rid of them. Is this bad? Surely it has affected others in bad ways. But I keep doing it. In fear of losing.
I want to bury you, bury you after what you did to me. The feeling this word brings is terrible, like the world is crashing around you. Buried in your own thoughts, your actions you end up regretting every day. How terrible it is to feel this way.
The body was placed into the coffin with a thud. Barney tried his best to suppress the tears coming out of his eyes but it was no use. His father was dead and he could do nothing about it. Barney’s mind filled with regret and wished it was he who was in the coffin.
Bury me in your mind, because I’m never going away. Bury me because you’re already in minel. I want you I need you I think you should never let go of me. Bury me because I’m never going and you’re never leaving. I won’t let you. Not again. Not ever. Not in this lifetime. Not in the rest.
In my conservation book, I’m reading about how artifacts decay in the ground, how metals corrode and textiles stain and stone crumbles and bone cracks. Only the book never says “when the objects are in the ground” – the book always says, “during the burial stage.” Isn’t that nice? Like archaeologists are always digging up dead things. I guess we are. Because what else ends up in the ground, besides what’s deemed to be dead?
I’m gonna bury the things I don’t want to see anymore. It’s as simple as that. Take what you don’t want anymore and bury it far far away, where it will never bother you again. The past doesn’t belong in the present.
The dirt flew past my face and caught the strands of my golden hair and brushed them back. Fluffy was the best rabbit I had ever had, and the tears seeped down my face and dropped down to the ground. He was next to me but he didn’t offer his support. Some friend I thought angrily, as I tore up the ground. The burial proceeded as thus, and I walked away in the rain. The pain was so vast, like the ocean on a beach day. I remembered the way Fluffy brushed my hands for carrots, and I bit back a moan. Death was too painful for me.
Bury me,
bury me,
buryme.
I’m going farther underground,
why not just fill the hole.
trap me down here
I’ll be ok
I always have
always will.
Life’s a gamble
and I already know I’ve lost.
So do it
drown my screams
fill the hole
I’ve got nothing else to lose.
Do it
if you can
I’m already burried deep
finish the job.
Come on,
lets go out with a bang.
bury a body. bury your feelings. bury your thoughts. your emotions. burying something is just hiding it, waiting for it to return. knowing you can always go back to it. it won’t disappear. it is never gone for good. it is just hidden for the time being. a way of an escape, for as long as needed. people bury things for different reasons.
She buried his odd in a shallow grave, careful to not let his toes peak through the earthy clay. Next time, she though to herself, she would remember to dig the grave first ather than have to hide the body as she tore into the earth with her shovel.
She walked outside clutching the red box in her hand. She was going to bury it under the maple tree. Tears streamed down her face as she thought about losing the box’s precious contents, but she shuddered with fear to think about what would happen if anyone ever knew what was inside.
bury the dead bury the hatchet bury feelings into an emotionless self you are not the ice queen the feelings are there buried deep within screaming to find the right person to hear them out to hear the truth of the
IF I COULD ONLY BURY MY MEMORIES OF YOU, I WOULD HAVE DONE IT A LONG TIME AGO
IF I COULD ONLY BURY MY UNRECIPROCATED FEELINGS FOR YOU, I WOULD HAVE DONE IT AGES AGO
IF I COULD ONLY BURY THE LONELINESS AND DESPERATION I FEEL FOR NOT BEING WANTED BY YOU
I WOULD HAVE DONE IT AS SOON AS I COULD
cut her down and bury her deep
deep in the ground, standing on her feet
impossible for her to ever find sleep
bury the site with a willow tree
and here forever this willow tree weeps
Go on, bury your lost hope and dreams. There’s no point of dwelling in the impossible, what matters the most is simply, one word, the ‘now’.
I shoved the shovel into the cold hard dirt ground and came up with some dirt. I looked behind me at my dead Father a trickle of blood coming from the corner of his mouth. “Just keep going.” I told myself “Don’t look back.”
the jury under the fury of the night to make it all right but just because its out of sight doesent mean its right because that just builds and builds and then sparks fights and no new lights can be found until you dig deep into the ground of you heart and yourself and see what you come up with and what you can learn to cope with through yourself without moping or doping or hurting because the power inside yourself you dont know until you dig deep.
He was burried besides his wife, as he had always wanted. It was a serene scene; the sky was blue, the breeze was softly blowing through the trees and the flowers were just starting to bloom. It was just as it was supposed to be
I sat down and put on music. Maybe the noise would help me bury the thoughts going through my head. I turned up the volume to a near-deafening level, and it seemed to help, at least a little bit.
Under the ground. That’s where I would go. The rain, purified by the earth’s pores. The sun, not artificial or stolen away. Not overheated, and not cooled down. Under the ground. In a world where I belong. Because I have been buried all my life.
She’s dead.
I mean. The body’s right there.
What are we going to do about it–
NO SHUT UP. Nothing happened.
Nothing.
We’ll just bury it. No one will know.
But what–
SHUT. UP. God, let me think–
I want to bury my heart in the earth.
your dead they never wanted to be seen anyways. They wish they were never alive because they now feel so free. It’s not a matter of not being happy in life, just happier in death.
people bury the things they loved most of all, so it can’t hurt them anymore, but as she stares out into the foggy crystal sky she wishes that she hadn’t. so what if remembering hurt even more than silence? at least then the memories that she kept would never fade. at least then she could have, however faint, a recollection of happiness in all its glorious light. she could have fed and lived off of that, rather than remaining in the dank darkness of self-imposed isolation. she’d buried all her emotions and regrets and now, she feels nothing.
If we try very hard, we all have the power to bury the bad experiences of our lives. Put up those walls, if you will, or another mask. Whatever it takes to find happiness.
Bury me with it, like the Modest Mouse song. I wonder what he was talking about in that song, you would think I’d know it better since they’re my favourite band and all. I just realized I’ve said nothing about the word above so here it goes: the dead are buried, emotions are buried, mistakes, the past, cat poop, dog bones, dead goldfish; bury is morbid, depressed. Hands are buried in pockets, wet eyes in Egyptian cotton pillowcases, chocolate in volcano cakes, sequentially.
Anne leaned on her shovel, wiping the sweat from her brow as she gazed down into the hole in the dirt. Hours of labor, and they seemed to produce such little result. It wasn’t yet six feet. She sighed and plunged the shovel back into the soil.
Please. Bury me with it. I’d rather not forget a thing.
The pain is infinite, choking him to the point of suffocation. He pulls himself along the floor, the door seeming to move farther and farther away. He cries out, white hot agony flaring down his body in a ruthless shudder.
He finally reaches the exit, hands jiggling the handle, but it’s been locked. The panic sinks in, taking hold with an iron-vise grip and he turns, collapsing against the steel door.
He’ll come for me, he thinks. He always does.
But a steady beeping catches his attention, numbers ticking down slowly.
9, 8, 7, 6…
And he realizes that Bruce won’t be coming for him this time. At the time he needs him most, he isn’t there to save him. His son.
3, 2, 1-
The world explodes in white, before the world crumbles and buries him in darkness.
Sometimes I want to bury myself inside a sea of pillows and blankets and live the childhood I had always wish I had. Forts, slumber parties, hot chocolate, and loving parenthood.
bury me in the sky among the angels and the birds. I will float above with souls of the dead that have risen. And look down upon those who have not yet realized that death will be their way out
i wish i could bury all my sorrows away. Forget about every thing and everyone in this place we call home. Just bury it down to the ground
It was ages ago that we did that. I had almost forgotten, really. But as soon as the dirt turned over and the silver tin foil peaked out at me, I remembered everything. The buried treasures were still there, tokens of a lost childhood.
I bury myself in the kayos that surrounds me for it makes me feel important. I love the feeling of people working together for a common goal. It’s too bad something bad has to happen for people to have something to work against but they also must have something worth fighting for.
It was time to bury the past behind them, where it belonged. It was haunting their future, and she couldn’t possibly imagine another day feeling like someone was tearing out her heart every time she tried to breathe in. It was miserable. What kind of horrible person inflicts that kind of physical damage onto someone? It was unfair.
The land beneath her stood stacked neatly on either side of the grave.
She held a rose in her hand–a yellow thing, starting to wilt and curl at the edges. Her father’s casket rested in front of her, nestled in that moist earth.
She opened her mouth. No words came out. Instead, she threw in her rose and the first handful of earth.
I bury my head in the pillowcase and inhale the comforting scent of my own bed.
The sun is peeking through my curtains and the space heater woke me up a little early, but I don’t really mind.
This is the first morning in a long string of mornings that I’ve been happy. I’ve had a wonderful twenty four hours.
And I was ready to start another twenty four hours.
We fell for each other one by one
Dominos in games that nobody won.
I fell for you, and you did the same
But the one that you chose was not of my name.
We went down the line, each falling for the next
Stuck in a game called the Domino Effect.
We lay in a mess we couldn’t get out of,
Buried by our own foolish one-sided love.
Sometimes I wish to bury my thoughts, myself, the weight of my burden. And so I do. I bury these things that I can’t say or talk about. I take them and bury them deep within myself. The only problem is that sometimes things can wash up. The sea of sadness I dwell inside will sometimes uncovers all the secrets that I try desperately to hide away.
I never buried something too deep to not be able to retrieve. I’m scare of losing things forever. I try to keep them close, even when I want to get rid of them. Is this bad? Surely it has affected others in bad ways. But I keep doing it. In fear of losing.
poop
in my soup
poop
in da loop
poop
for our youth
poop
buried in my back yard
poop
all the live long day
A poem by Addison Barton
I want to bury you, bury you after what you did to me. The feeling this word brings is terrible, like the world is crashing around you. Buried in your own thoughts, your actions you end up regretting every day. How terrible it is to feel this way.
The body was placed into the coffin with a thud. Barney tried his best to suppress the tears coming out of his eyes but it was no use. His father was dead and he could do nothing about it. Barney’s mind filled with regret and wished it was he who was in the coffin.
Bury me in your mind, because I’m never going away. Bury me because you’re already in minel. I want you I need you I think you should never let go of me. Bury me because I’m never going and you’re never leaving. I won’t let you. Not again. Not ever. Not in this lifetime. Not in the rest.
In my conservation book, I’m reading about how artifacts decay in the ground, how metals corrode and textiles stain and stone crumbles and bone cracks. Only the book never says “when the objects are in the ground” – the book always says, “during the burial stage.” Isn’t that nice? Like archaeologists are always digging up dead things. I guess we are. Because what else ends up in the ground, besides what’s deemed to be dead?
I’m gonna bury the things I don’t want to see anymore. It’s as simple as that. Take what you don’t want anymore and bury it far far away, where it will never bother you again. The past doesn’t belong in the present.