the night was grueling,a downpour of rain and a headache to go along with it.standing over a dead body and no evidence to go on as the night was coming to a dark and scary end.
Johnny gazed down upon the misshapen body in disgust. Out off the murders this week, this one had to be the worst. He could barley stand to look at the poor victim, her eyes wide, he could still see the shock in her expression. Inexcusable. This person–no this..this thing — had to be stopped. Johnny didn’t think he had the strength to miss another day with the family for this.
there is always evidence for those you want to believe.
and i want to believe he loves me.
but is this evidence only in my imagination?
or does he see the evidence that i love him too?
evidence. Such mistery in this simple word. It is not the answer you want to find but your heart feeling that wants you to find it. No proof is needed when you know eccactly what you what to know.
Sometimes, there is no need for evidence because you have the truth. You can’t point to a line of reasoning with all the details in check and claim at truth. Like I love you – nothing is necessary after that if it’s the truth. Like your soul. Like the sun.
As I sat by myself the evidence was obvious. I needed help. I can’t stop hurting myself, i can’t stop drinking, i can’t stop smoking pot. i just want to die. i need help
When a police officer arrives at a crimes scene one of the first things they do is look for evidence. Evidence is something that could link a person to a crime, so criminals do their best not to leave it behind.
There was no way they could ever prove she had done it. She had placed altered the puzzle pieces, cutting off ends, and adding lies where they didn’t belong. No matter how they tried to glue it, force it, pry it, the police could not make the evidence fit together. In the end, they had to let a woman who had chopped her own children into pieces out into the world.
i don’t need evidence to prove i’m right
i know i’m right
if you don’t believe it, you don’t have to
i know what’s right
you don’t need evidence to prove i’m right
you should just know
proof
jail cell
red handed
popsicle sticks
lost
a secret diary
naked eyes
telescopes
planets
crumbs
footprints
pictures
texts
mixing up names in your phone
a lie
a truth
what we look for to prove that someone else is wrong, the kind of thinking that makes people jarr and clash and wish they were someone else. bagged and tagged this is a crime scene without a criminal, what to do but just cross-reference the dna and prove we’re human.
we are constantly searching for evidence. evidence of life, the after-life. new or old evidence. but what is evident-is it what can be perceived by all? or by a few wise men? no, evidence is what we believe we can see before us. therefore evident is not all-encompassing; rather, it is situational and individual at best. we are evidence of ourselves, that is all.
i cannot find any of this magical substance they speak of….where ever i look its false and i dont know why. Tell me where truth is and i’ll be there right away. Love me tender and dont show any of the magic that creates tension in my back and legs….
I think there is enough evidence in this broken heart to say that;
1) I’ve loved you my entire life
2) in the time that I’ve loved you I loved you with my whole self
3) I gave you my heart, my whole heart and you just spit in my face
4) You’re the reason I don’t think I’ll ever love again
and finally;
5) You’ve ruined me forever.
The evidence was everywhere. A bra that didn’t belong to her was slung on the back of the chair. His belt lay on the floor, and the scent of perfume lingered in the foyer. A perfume that she had never smelled. She walked towards the bedroom.
He looked at her phone and held his breath. It was there on the screen in front of him, as plain as day. He didn’t understand the pain in his gut. His whole heart ached all the way through his teeth. She loved him.
heres the evidence.
the concrete substance you use to base all decisions.
no living.
just analyzing evidence.
you got no where to go from up here.
because evidence is the bare minimum.
where did it come from? how can i get it? you say it’s proof, but there’s two sides to every story. doubt is the first thought. challenge what i’m told, prove it to me, i don’t believe you. i don’t believe you’ll stay. the things i doubt the most are the things that only time will tell.
she left no evidence of her nightly adventures. her daily routine was the same; go to school, come home from school, do homework, go to bed. it was mundane, it was nice, it was boring. but behind the scenes away from prying eyes, there was so much more. the lyrical and literal journeys both in and out of her head, cascading and sprawling and spinning from her mind, leaving no trace behind.
proof. proof that you have done something wrong. it is supposed to help people, but it always seems to harm. not always the target, sometime you. because you know something you shouldn’t. and your heart breaks. because you know what ended it.
The evidence was all right there in front of his eyes. She had left him, and he was left in an appartment they were supposed to share, left alone to pick up the pieces. How could she do this to him? They were supposed to be in this together, but now he was completely alone. And all he could think about was how much he still loved her.
The evidence of this circumstances proves that she was never innocent. Not really. She was guilty from the beginning. Never not loving him that way. Guilty, guilty, guilty.
the case evidence in a police investigation is very important. evidence is proof in trials against victims or backing up victims evidence can be planted or real. evidence is defined as gay shit that i cant think of any thing else to write about
The evidence was damning. They had what appeared to be him on video at the pawn shop buying a gun. His prints were on the gun. His boss was dead, killed by the gun. The man was innocent though, framed by an unknown enemy.
i thought he was guilty. he just had that look on his face, the shifty eyes that couldn’t quite hold my gaze, the sweat on his upper lip, the way he kept licking his lips as if he were trying to lick the truth right off of them. the evidence was sketchy at best, but i knew we had him. how to prove it for sure, that was the next question.
The mirror was washed with the faded view of her eyes. They were swirling with emotion that flared wildly, exposing her soul. Evidence of a night passed by that couldn’t be swallowed, and wouldn’t go away without the touch of something… indescribable.
All was normal. Sort of. Ok, not quite. Something was slighly skewed but there was no evidence. The skew was not identifiable. It could be something but then again maybe nothing.
I think of criminal minds and all the crime shows I used to watch with my mum, I still do sometimes. I like spelling this word on paper, it gives me a feeling of completion almost. I love it.
Evidence to be right. Evidence to be wrong. Twisted and manipulated it can kill you. But conveyed properly it’s your salvation. What evidence was there for Troy Davis? Or Casey Anthony? What evidence wasn’t there?
Evidence proves a point. This goes beyond law and crime, but in life. How can oyu believe something if there is no facts or instances to prove your belief to be right? It’s too intanglible for human trust, or at least for my trust. Evidence builds a basis for trust, truth.
as Carrie walked to the scene of the crime she almost instantaneously spotted the clumped dried blood spatter on the door hinge. ” this was no accident” she said to herself.
‘We don’t have enough evidence.” Troy said, passing Inspector Barnaby a phone to make the phone call. “We’ll just see what Andrew says. If he clamis he doesnt own the truck, we’ll take him into the cells for the night and question him.”
I drove for three hours, the whole while, asking myself “what do I want?”
What did I want? It came to me on a bench, in Skaneateles, NY, overlooking the lake they have there. And I felt my stomach ease, the ulcer lift, even if only for a minute. But that was proof enough that my realization was true.
I want away from you. I want space from you. I want to be free of your hold. I want my own life, with me on the pedestal, and not you.
I feel free-er declaring this. And suddenly seeing your picture the way I do makes it clear that I am not yet free. Clearly my stomach knows what stress I dare not say aloud.
the night was grueling,a downpour of rain and a headache to go along with it.standing over a dead body and no evidence to go on as the night was coming to a dark and scary end.
Johnny gazed down upon the misshapen body in disgust. Out off the murders this week, this one had to be the worst. He could barley stand to look at the poor victim, her eyes wide, he could still see the shock in her expression. Inexcusable. This person–no this..this thing — had to be stopped. Johnny didn’t think he had the strength to miss another day with the family for this.
The girl who wore a yellow frock didnt want to hold your hand anymore, she walked away with the evidence tucked behind her ear.
there is always evidence for those you want to believe.
and i want to believe he loves me.
but is this evidence only in my imagination?
or does he see the evidence that i love him too?
evidence. Such mistery in this simple word. It is not the answer you want to find but your heart feeling that wants you to find it. No proof is needed when you know eccactly what you what to know.
Sometimes, there is no need for evidence because you have the truth. You can’t point to a line of reasoning with all the details in check and claim at truth. Like I love you – nothing is necessary after that if it’s the truth. Like your soul. Like the sun.
As I sat by myself the evidence was obvious. I needed help. I can’t stop hurting myself, i can’t stop drinking, i can’t stop smoking pot. i just want to die. i need help
When a police officer arrives at a crimes scene one of the first things they do is look for evidence. Evidence is something that could link a person to a crime, so criminals do their best not to leave it behind.
evident time spent working zoning toning and boning, I like free flow out the nose flu season is the reason for working doze.
There was no way they could ever prove she had done it. She had placed altered the puzzle pieces, cutting off ends, and adding lies where they didn’t belong. No matter how they tried to glue it, force it, pry it, the police could not make the evidence fit together. In the end, they had to let a woman who had chopped her own children into pieces out into the world.
i don’t need evidence to prove i’m right
i know i’m right
if you don’t believe it, you don’t have to
i know what’s right
you don’t need evidence to prove i’m right
you should just know
proof
jail cell
red handed
popsicle sticks
lost
a secret diary
naked eyes
telescopes
planets
crumbs
footprints
pictures
texts
mixing up names in your phone
a lie
a truth
what we look for to prove that someone else is wrong, the kind of thinking that makes people jarr and clash and wish they were someone else. bagged and tagged this is a crime scene without a criminal, what to do but just cross-reference the dna and prove we’re human.
we are constantly searching for evidence. evidence of life, the after-life. new or old evidence. but what is evident-is it what can be perceived by all? or by a few wise men? no, evidence is what we believe we can see before us. therefore evident is not all-encompassing; rather, it is situational and individual at best. we are evidence of ourselves, that is all.
i cannot find any of this magical substance they speak of….where ever i look its false and i dont know why. Tell me where truth is and i’ll be there right away. Love me tender and dont show any of the magic that creates tension in my back and legs….
I think there is enough evidence in this broken heart to say that;
1) I’ve loved you my entire life
2) in the time that I’ve loved you I loved you with my whole self
3) I gave you my heart, my whole heart and you just spit in my face
4) You’re the reason I don’t think I’ll ever love again
and finally;
5) You’ve ruined me forever.
The evidence was everywhere. A bra that didn’t belong to her was slung on the back of the chair. His belt lay on the floor, and the scent of perfume lingered in the foyer. A perfume that she had never smelled. She walked towards the bedroom.
He looked at her phone and held his breath. It was there on the screen in front of him, as plain as day. He didn’t understand the pain in his gut. His whole heart ached all the way through his teeth. She loved him.
There was evidence
Laying on the floor
It was quite evident
That he ran out the door
After the crime had been done
Completed and was through
The girl was not in this world
And you wish it werent true.
heres the evidence.
the concrete substance you use to base all decisions.
no living.
just analyzing evidence.
you got no where to go from up here.
because evidence is the bare minimum.
where did it come from? how can i get it? you say it’s proof, but there’s two sides to every story. doubt is the first thought. challenge what i’m told, prove it to me, i don’t believe you. i don’t believe you’ll stay. the things i doubt the most are the things that only time will tell.
it would take a second to break you
she left no evidence of her nightly adventures. her daily routine was the same; go to school, come home from school, do homework, go to bed. it was mundane, it was nice, it was boring. but behind the scenes away from prying eyes, there was so much more. the lyrical and literal journeys both in and out of her head, cascading and sprawling and spinning from her mind, leaving no trace behind.
proof. proof that you have done something wrong. it is supposed to help people, but it always seems to harm. not always the target, sometime you. because you know something you shouldn’t. and your heart breaks. because you know what ended it.
As if sheltered by the flames, page after page curls inwards. Destruction turns into peace.
The evidence was all right there in front of his eyes. She had left him, and he was left in an appartment they were supposed to share, left alone to pick up the pieces. How could she do this to him? They were supposed to be in this together, but now he was completely alone. And all he could think about was how much he still loved her.
The evidence of this circumstances proves that she was never innocent. Not really. She was guilty from the beginning. Never not loving him that way. Guilty, guilty, guilty.
the case evidence in a police investigation is very important. evidence is proof in trials against victims or backing up victims evidence can be planted or real. evidence is defined as gay shit that i cant think of any thing else to write about
The evidence was damning. They had what appeared to be him on video at the pawn shop buying a gun. His prints were on the gun. His boss was dead, killed by the gun. The man was innocent though, framed by an unknown enemy.
i thought he was guilty. he just had that look on his face, the shifty eyes that couldn’t quite hold my gaze, the sweat on his upper lip, the way he kept licking his lips as if he were trying to lick the truth right off of them. the evidence was sketchy at best, but i knew we had him. how to prove it for sure, that was the next question.
The mirror was washed with the faded view of her eyes. They were swirling with emotion that flared wildly, exposing her soul. Evidence of a night passed by that couldn’t be swallowed, and wouldn’t go away without the touch of something… indescribable.
All was normal. Sort of. Ok, not quite. Something was slighly skewed but there was no evidence. The skew was not identifiable. It could be something but then again maybe nothing.
I think of criminal minds and all the crime shows I used to watch with my mum, I still do sometimes. I like spelling this word on paper, it gives me a feeling of completion almost. I love it.
from the scene of a crime. getting caught from that evidence. csi miami. fbi. hair, remnants of a murder scene.
Evidence to be right. Evidence to be wrong. Twisted and manipulated it can kill you. But conveyed properly it’s your salvation. What evidence was there for Troy Davis? Or Casey Anthony? What evidence wasn’t there?
Evidence proves a point. This goes beyond law and crime, but in life. How can oyu believe something if there is no facts or instances to prove your belief to be right? It’s too intanglible for human trust, or at least for my trust. Evidence builds a basis for trust, truth.
as Carrie walked to the scene of the crime she almost instantaneously spotted the clumped dried blood spatter on the door hinge. ” this was no accident” she said to herself.
‘We don’t have enough evidence.” Troy said, passing Inspector Barnaby a phone to make the phone call. “We’ll just see what Andrew says. If he clamis he doesnt own the truck, we’ll take him into the cells for the night and question him.”
the evidence was clear to me. There is a God, and he knows when we are falling. Fear not
I drove for three hours, the whole while, asking myself “what do I want?”
What did I want? It came to me on a bench, in Skaneateles, NY, overlooking the lake they have there. And I felt my stomach ease, the ulcer lift, even if only for a minute. But that was proof enough that my realization was true.
I want away from you. I want space from you. I want to be free of your hold. I want my own life, with me on the pedestal, and not you.
I feel free-er declaring this. And suddenly seeing your picture the way I do makes it clear that I am not yet free. Clearly my stomach knows what stress I dare not say aloud.