i saw a little bird killed by a bigger bird at Green Cay and it just totally brought me down but then I remembered they cycle of life. The animal world is more tuned in that than we are.
Three little children killed. What’s next? “We can’t let him continue,” Nick muttered. “We have to find him. We have to stop him, and end this once and for all.”
It killed me the way you looked at me. The pain you expressed in your eyes when you realized for the first time that you couldn’t trust me was unbearable. Your anguish broke my heart. It was all I could do to finally pull the trigger and put us both out of your misery.
carl woke up tuesday morning, brushed his teeth, and got in his mazda. driving down the expressway he hit a patch of black ice. he spun out. his car came to rest against a guardrail. he was struck by a truck. and instantly killed.
He killed, bloody, Christ was killed. Sacrificed for the good of many. Roman guard killed himself to escape punishment. Christ was killed by us. We killed him.
One day I was killed. It was a rainy rainy day and I laid in a bed of flowers. Yellow flowers. And there were black birds. Lots of black birds. I was peacefully calm and happy. And then I got killed. Killed by a bird pooping in my eye.
But one I’ll never be able to leave behind. Most human beings are wracked by guilt; I found myself consumed by it. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep, and most days, it was an effort just to breathe; I couldn’t believe the pool of blood that congealed around the neat hole in his head.
you killed the dreams of mine. My dear, contort the bones in my body. Eat them up and call me a hottie. Try to understand the words i speak. believe me, it’s not easy. I understand nothing when mydreams were alive, vibrant in nature.
he killed me the day that he told me we had to part. not literally, but it felt like I was being killed. the death of his feelings for me hurt the worst that I ever hurt.
He was killed in battle.
Not just killed, destroyed, his body blown to pieces for the explosion.
She cried for days, mourning the loss of her one and only love.
It was dark an the blood didn’t make any sense where it was. Of course, it was there. Not that it needed any reason. Blood is blood, and with it comes killing. She had killed him very well, even if the blood was in the wrong spot.
June wondered how the blood had got there.
Time and time again, but would you look a it–each drop, each body, it didn’t make any–
I killed my best friend. I don’t know why, I was told by these… voices. They told me she was plotting against me. They took me over and grabbed a knife, oh my god, I can’t I can’t…. I stabbed her. I stabbed her three times.
You killed me with your plain lack of interest with all of the things you didn’t live up to with your words that meant nothing You killed the piece of me that loved you
He’s dead. Just like that. No final words, no last meal. I mean, there was a last meal, but he didn’t know it was his last one. It’s not like most of us know. We don’t have the luxury of picking something out and enjoying it like that.
I can still see my body lying there. So much red… It used to be my favorite color, you know. So bright and alive. Not anymore. I saw it through his eyes, in his memory, once I was gone. My color, my blood, my life spread across his skin.
It killed me that i had nothing to say. Wasn’t sure I ever would. It was as if some computer virus wiped out my hard drive and there was nothing left in its wake. I suspect if I sit here long enough something will come to me.
You killed my confidence. After I met you, I was worried if I looked good enough, if I was in good enough shape, if I was thin enough. I never knew what to think, because if I thought I looked good, you could very well ignore me and blow me off. Then I would be left there wondering what was wrong with me.
yesterday I killed three people. I didnt really mean to but I just did it. I felt like I had no choice. maybe I was feeling threatened, maybe I was feeling stupid.. I cant explain it, i dont know what I was going to do. im sad, im depressed moreso. I wish I hadent. I always feared killing someone because I figured I would be forced into hell because of it. Thats why I would never go to war, I would rather to go jail than go to hell…
The thick smell of blood on the air was natural, normal to his life. The death laying about him, scantily clad and whorish as always, was nothing new either. He panted, heaving a sigh. He had finally given in to his desires.
“You see, brother. You are no different than me.” Thorn cooed from behind.
My calendar killed my passion. As simply as that, it died. Killed by the crush of time and the demands of the day. It was dead, alright. As dead as a doornail. It was the day I died.
I couldn’t believe she did it. She killed. Like that. Isn’t supposed to be hard? But it looked so easy. Just one small push. And the knife was between my ribs. One. Small. Push.
I killed him. Yes, yes i did. No one will ever find out, though. Because I hid the body somewhere no one will find it. No, of course that cat was always that fat. of course, there was always a red mark on that carpet. i loved him, loved him to fucking death. My god, doesn’t anyone understand? True love never dies. obviously, he wasn’t it.
today I killed someone. It was not an accident. I did it completely on purpose. It was my ex-boyfriend. I saw him standing there, completely alone and a force overwhelmed me. I moved forward with a purpose and stabbed in the back. I watched the blood run down his back, his shirt soaking up the majority of it. An evil smirk came upon my face as I watched him die.
Mama, just killed a man. Put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger now he’s dead. That is an amazing song. Queen are pure talent. I also like The Beatles. John Lennon was killed in 1980 on December 8th.
once I killed a man. He was ugly and I didn’t like him so I killed him. His name was bob and once he stole my cookie. That made me really angry so I killed him a second time. That’s why I hate people named Bob. plus Bob looks like it has two thirteens in it which is unlucky. So always hate people named Bob. Ok? Never go near Bob’s.
I don’t want to be killed by any man woman or child named Russell. If it has to happen it has to happen, but God strike me down if I will allow it to be at the hand of a Russell. Why? Well, I don’t know really. It’s just that name that just drives me nuts!
I killed a man and I found myself having a hard time sleeping at night. Killed is a word that makes me feel like I did away with something that someone loved. It is the extermination of a life or an idea and chances are, someone is hurt over it. When we think that something would be good if killed, usually someone else thinks the opposite.
video killed the radio star. music, where is these days? can’t stop. won’t stop.
What else is there to it? Where is it going? When will it end? I get obsessed. and then it’s over. done. what is obsession? where does it come from. those perfect tones. I cant stop.
“Why did you kill us?” He looked at me funny, his face saying it all: ‘What do you mean, killed?’ I tried to redeem myself. “I-I mean…” I couldn’t put it into words. He had murdered what we were, what we were supposed to be. And for that, I could never forgive him.
he killed me inside. he broke my heart again and again, and it’ll probably happen again. simply because i’m so weak minded. i can’t say no to him, but i need to learn to. he’s my kryptonite.
i killed it. with my own bare hands. reached out and took it by the neck–furry and warm its breathing was easier to stop. quelled by my own breath. ‘how odd’ i thought, ‘that as you stopped breathing so did i.’ easy enough.
He didn’t have a hard time with it. He killed many of their kind. It was his job. But for some reason he felt bad about this one. He stared down at his hands as clean as they were he felt as if blood had stained them forever. Although it was his job to kill the vile creatures of the night, he couldn’t justify this one.
i saw a little bird killed by a bigger bird at Green Cay and it just totally brought me down but then I remembered they cycle of life. The animal world is more tuned in that than we are.
Three little children killed. What’s next? “We can’t let him continue,” Nick muttered. “We have to find him. We have to stop him, and end this once and for all.”
Killed hopes,
Abandoned dreams.
Desperate whispers,
Nightmares and fear.
Pain. Sickness.
This is our world.
It killed me the way you looked at me. The pain you expressed in your eyes when you realized for the first time that you couldn’t trust me was unbearable. Your anguish broke my heart. It was all I could do to finally pull the trigger and put us both out of your misery.
carl woke up tuesday morning, brushed his teeth, and got in his mazda. driving down the expressway he hit a patch of black ice. he spun out. his car came to rest against a guardrail. he was struck by a truck. and instantly killed.
He killed, bloody, Christ was killed. Sacrificed for the good of many. Roman guard killed himself to escape punishment. Christ was killed by us. We killed him.
It killed her to watch him walk away, all the time they had spent together. All their dreams walked out the door with him that night.
One day I was killed. It was a rainy rainy day and I laid in a bed of flowers. Yellow flowers. And there were black birds. Lots of black birds. I was peacefully calm and happy. And then I got killed. Killed by a bird pooping in my eye.
It was certainly an accident.
But one I’ll never be able to leave behind. Most human beings are wracked by guilt; I found myself consumed by it. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep, and most days, it was an effort just to breathe; I couldn’t believe the pool of blood that congealed around the neat hole in his head.
you killed the dreams of mine. My dear, contort the bones in my body. Eat them up and call me a hottie. Try to understand the words i speak. believe me, it’s not easy. I understand nothing when mydreams were alive, vibrant in nature.
he killed me the day that he told me we had to part. not literally, but it felt like I was being killed. the death of his feelings for me hurt the worst that I ever hurt.
“You KILLED him!” Angela howled, glaring at her friend.
“No I didn’t!” Jeraldine said, trying to hide the smile on her face.
“Liar!” Angela gently pushed her friend to the side and scooped up the crushed paper box. “This is why we can’t have nice things!”
He was killed in battle.
Not just killed, destroyed, his body blown to pieces for the explosion.
She cried for days, mourning the loss of her one and only love.
It was dark an the blood didn’t make any sense where it was. Of course, it was there. Not that it needed any reason. Blood is blood, and with it comes killing. She had killed him very well, even if the blood was in the wrong spot.
June wondered how the blood had got there.
Time and time again, but would you look a it–each drop, each body, it didn’t make any–
Killed. Killing. Killer.
Is that who I am?
A killer?
I don’t know. I can’t tell myself these lies anymore.
“Do it,” He whispered. “You can do it. We’ll survive.”
I glanced at him, tears everywhere. “I’m a killer.”
At least the end came quick.
I killed my best friend. I don’t know why, I was told by these… voices. They told me she was plotting against me. They took me over and grabbed a knife, oh my god, I can’t I can’t…. I stabbed her. I stabbed her three times.
I killed my best friend.
You killed me with your plain lack of interest with all of the things you didn’t live up to with your words that meant nothing You killed the piece of me that loved you
He’s dead. Just like that. No final words, no last meal. I mean, there was a last meal, but he didn’t know it was his last one. It’s not like most of us know. We don’t have the luxury of picking something out and enjoying it like that.
I can still see my body lying there. So much red… It used to be my favorite color, you know. So bright and alive. Not anymore. I saw it through his eyes, in his memory, once I was gone. My color, my blood, my life spread across his skin.
It killed me that i had nothing to say. Wasn’t sure I ever would. It was as if some computer virus wiped out my hard drive and there was nothing left in its wake. I suspect if I sit here long enough something will come to me.
You killed my confidence. After I met you, I was worried if I looked good enough, if I was in good enough shape, if I was thin enough. I never knew what to think, because if I thought I looked good, you could very well ignore me and blow me off. Then I would be left there wondering what was wrong with me.
who was killed, i hope not me
yesterday I killed three people. I didnt really mean to but I just did it. I felt like I had no choice. maybe I was feeling threatened, maybe I was feeling stupid.. I cant explain it, i dont know what I was going to do. im sad, im depressed moreso. I wish I hadent. I always feared killing someone because I figured I would be forced into hell because of it. Thats why I would never go to war, I would rather to go jail than go to hell…
One word. So many implications. Killed or killer. Which one am I?
I never knew how I would be killed. Sometimes I thought it would be a car crash. Or dying for someone I loved.
But I never imagined I would be murdered…
No, I don’t think anyone predicted that.
What did I do wrong? Why did God forsake me?
Who deserves to be killed?
Why me?
Why…
The thick smell of blood on the air was natural, normal to his life. The death laying about him, scantily clad and whorish as always, was nothing new either. He panted, heaving a sigh. He had finally given in to his desires.
“You see, brother. You are no different than me.” Thorn cooed from behind.
My calendar killed my passion. As simply as that, it died. Killed by the crush of time and the demands of the day. It was dead, alright. As dead as a doornail. It was the day I died.
I couldn’t believe she did it. She killed. Like that. Isn’t supposed to be hard? But it looked so easy. Just one small push. And the knife was between my ribs. One. Small. Push.
I killed him. Yes, yes i did. No one will ever find out, though. Because I hid the body somewhere no one will find it. No, of course that cat was always that fat. of course, there was always a red mark on that carpet. i loved him, loved him to fucking death. My god, doesn’t anyone understand? True love never dies. obviously, he wasn’t it.
today I killed someone. It was not an accident. I did it completely on purpose. It was my ex-boyfriend. I saw him standing there, completely alone and a force overwhelmed me. I moved forward with a purpose and stabbed in the back. I watched the blood run down his back, his shirt soaking up the majority of it. An evil smirk came upon my face as I watched him die.
Mama, just killed a man. Put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger now he’s dead. That is an amazing song. Queen are pure talent. I also like The Beatles. John Lennon was killed in 1980 on December 8th.
once I killed a man. He was ugly and I didn’t like him so I killed him. His name was bob and once he stole my cookie. That made me really angry so I killed him a second time. That’s why I hate people named Bob. plus Bob looks like it has two thirteens in it which is unlucky. So always hate people named Bob. Ok? Never go near Bob’s.
I don’t want to be killed by any man woman or child named Russell. If it has to happen it has to happen, but God strike me down if I will allow it to be at the hand of a Russell. Why? Well, I don’t know really. It’s just that name that just drives me nuts!
I killed a man and I found myself having a hard time sleeping at night. Killed is a word that makes me feel like I did away with something that someone loved. It is the extermination of a life or an idea and chances are, someone is hurt over it. When we think that something would be good if killed, usually someone else thinks the opposite.
video killed the radio star. music, where is these days? can’t stop. won’t stop.
What else is there to it? Where is it going? When will it end? I get obsessed. and then it’s over. done. what is obsession? where does it come from. those perfect tones. I cant stop.
“Why did you kill us?” He looked at me funny, his face saying it all: ‘What do you mean, killed?’ I tried to redeem myself. “I-I mean…” I couldn’t put it into words. He had murdered what we were, what we were supposed to be. And for that, I could never forgive him.
he killed me inside. he broke my heart again and again, and it’ll probably happen again. simply because i’m so weak minded. i can’t say no to him, but i need to learn to. he’s my kryptonite.
“So it’s the same each time,” he said, “you just don’t care.”
“Of course I do! How can you say that? Why would I be here?” I stammered, face flushed red with anger and embarrassment.
“Maybe you don’t really care at all. I don’t think you do.”
i killed it. with my own bare hands. reached out and took it by the neck–furry and warm its breathing was easier to stop. quelled by my own breath. ‘how odd’ i thought, ‘that as you stopped breathing so did i.’ easy enough.
so much more time. to write.
He didn’t have a hard time with it. He killed many of their kind. It was his job. But for some reason he felt bad about this one. He stared down at his hands as clean as they were he felt as if blood had stained them forever. Although it was his job to kill the vile creatures of the night, he couldn’t justify this one.