everyone is punished for crimes they didn’t commit,
it’s always a lesson learned too late
when it turns out
that
you’re serving someone else’s sentence
but there’s someone out there who’s doing the same for you
and they have no idea what they did to deserve it.
This word is filled with resentment and pain. One’s imagines a person who has been severely punishment for a crime never committed. A dog who didn’t know any better. A friend who had no idea it meant so much.
punished is often a word used to describe the result of negative actions. if you do something bad, you will get punished. often put in place for children younger than about 13, it is an action usually carried out by parents when their children do something wrong, to act as a negative reinforcement.
Being punished is a bad thing. you get punished because you did something bad. Being punished for some thing like being happy is outrageous. i mean what? Why would you get punished for that?
she was punished for mouthing back at her captor. The man, who smelled aboslutely repugnant growled at her, smacking her across the face. She spat at him, and he roared. She could do nothing as he back handed her once more, leaving a red mark on her now bruising face.
“Why do you do this?!” She screamed at him, and he scoffed at her while rolling his eyes.
“Because I can, you stupid little bitch.” He answered.
We are punished for being different. We live in a world where if you don’t fit in the cookie cutter image of how some one should, look or act, we are taught that it wrong. However, i believe that is where great things are made.
Yeah, my Dom is a jerk. Beating me when I don’t deserve it and ignoring me when I do, it’s no wonder I’ve gone ballistic. And he can’t blame me when I seek out “supplementary training”. What’re you gonna do, hit me? You do more than enough of that already.
Well, the first thing that comes to mind is my father. It was never merited- myself, I never did anything wrong, My mom acknowledged that. Often he would come home drunk or get drunk and he would scream and break many objects in the house… to my knowledge, he never physically harmed anyone, but I am still emotionally scarred.
Papa.
The chains wrapped up and around her legs, like snakes writhing all across her skin. A fiery sensation crept up her body, like the licks of thousands of flames. She twisted and turned, trying to break free from the smelly, dirty mess, but she couldn’t escape its clutches. No one could.
There are no bars on his prison, and somehow, that’s worse. They know that he won’t go anywhere, because they know that he knows he deserves his punishment. Self-loathing binds him there, which he decides is the worst kind of punishment of all.
I read this word and I flip flop through scenarios… punished. A naughty child who waxed the floor with maple syrup. A teenager skipping class. A romantic interlude with some role-playing fun and a pair of wicked grins.
One minute. Sit there and don’t move. Your eyes must stay watching the clock.
One more minute! You looked away. You know you weren’t supposed to spread glue over Suzie’s project and you did it anyways. We play nice with the other kids and keep our hands to ourself.
Your two minutes are done. Go out to recess, I don’t want to see you causing trouble again.
I had a boyfriend who didn’t let me talk to anyone, ever. He’d make me feel guilty for even talking to family members. If he caught me talking to anyone besides him for any other reason besides something important, he’d punish me by slapping me. Sometimes he’d punch me in the stomach. I hate him so much.
Why am I being punished? I have done nothing wrong. Everything in my past can be explained through logic and reasoning. But none of that matters. I’m used to people not understanding me. I was born different. And while murder may seem to most as outrageous and wrong, I can assure you there was good reason. She had it coming.
Punished. I remember the time in preschool when Mrs. Kitchen made Matt Healy and I wash the tables after we ran across them. At the time, it was sort of frustrating, but later on, I realized that it was a perfect consequence. We dirtied the tables with our shoes, and we had to clean them. I wish the rest of the world would work like that. What would our prison system look like if the punishment always fit the crime?
The child decided that he would run away. Never would he return to his home. He packed his teddy bear and a snack in a plastic shopping bag and headed for the unknown. He made sure the door slammed loudly on his way out. He took each step heavily and was sure to rustle as many branches as he could between the stoop and the street. When he got there, the cars whizzing fast at such unbelievable speed made him stop. From the window, half hidden by a curtain, his mother’s heart pounded. She didn’t go out to stop him. She wanted to run out the door, grab his arm and yank him back. Something held her glued to the spot. In thirty seconds, just as she could not longer stand it, he turned and waled back to the house, head down, tears glistening.
I hate being punished as a child. It was never a physically punishment of abuse; it was more of a mental punishment. The disappointment in my superiors voices was enough punishment to torture myself.
I hate being punished as a child. It was never a physically punishment of abuse; it was more of a mental punishment. The disappointment in my superiors voices was enough punishment to torture myself.
I feel punished
the pain is horrible. I need it I deserve it. I deserve this pain and torture, the punishment is mine and I need to accept that it will last my lifetime. I need this hell. I deserve to be punished.
I do.
l need the punishment, because it is now me.
What am I being punished for? What have I done wrong? I am stuck in my cell waiting for this countdown to be no more. I want to see her beautiful face, for it has been so long. And as I am here serving my time, I feel so blessed that she will always be mine
<3
People become punished because of things they do. Everything has a consequence, whether you know it or not. That’s why people don’t do anything, in fear of being punished. But they aren’t afraid of being punished. They’re afraid of what happens after the punishment. Does life go on? Or is it just stuck, in a slow-paced, monotonous, phase?
What am I being punished for? What have I done wrong? I am stuck in my cell waiting for this countdown to be no more. I want to see her beautiful face, for it has been so long. And as I am here serving my time, I feel so blessed that she will always be mine.
I cannot seem to break through my passionate self-consciousness….to the point where my confidence is debilitated and my doubt grows exponentially. Will I ever reach an understanding with myself? Must my self-assuredness be continually punished by my over-developed sense of inferiority?
I sat in the corner, silent. I had earned it, of course. Yet, it was always unpleasant to feel the cold, hard wall on my forehead. That singular feeling that would always be associated with the wrong deed I had previously committed.
His eyes were looking at his mother. Those eyes were the gate to the anger and the sadness collected over 40 years, only for you. Those were not the eyes that woke you, those were the eyes that burn you.
If one is to be punished, then they must have done something very severe. The word “punishment” is relative to each person. Nobody deserved to be punished in a way that will ruin their lives forever. However, punishment (in certain cases) can be a means of teaching a lesson.
chained to the wall, whip and belt aquiver
light at the end of the tunnel turns into a sliver
mister is it a crime that i happen to miss her
sour taste like a blister in the way of a tongue twister
And it’s all I can do to walk through this hall once again. Last time, we walked together. Last time, I was walking toward something I thought we both wanted. But I know better now. Each time we screw up, I learn an entirely new lesson. My hand rises, holding a white paper with the tape ready to stick the message into his brain. My fingers run over the wooden door, making sure it stays. I smile at the three words before making a swift exit. I hope the phrase remains in his head for the next time.
“Bertie, what on earth….” I gasped in horror.
Albert, though we all called him Bertie, was the mischievous ‘animal’ in our house.
Our father always complained that he was a disgrace to our family.
“Oh hi Sissy,” he responded with a cheeky smile.
His lips were traced with dripping jam and his petite mouth was stuffed with the butter cake Nanny had baked that morning.
Pain. All I could feel was pain. Deep down, in my heart, my head, all over my body. All from her. From her glare.
I had done what I said I would not do. And she looked at me. The way… they way… she was punishing me. I had never know someone could be so successful. Oh the pain.
hurt, sad, crying, without justice, nor morality to make it better. no wise words heal, no people look in sympathy. alone, dark, gloomy, prison. dying, worse than dying, worse than anything. guilt distant pleasure and lust. crazy
i dot like being punished i dont like being yelled at and i dont like being hit. why in the world would punishment even exist. it maybe because some people deserve it and others cant live without it.
Broken. Bruised. Cracked. Crushed.
That’s how he made her feel. Punished for caring too much. Punished for wanting more. Punished for being the girl she was meant to be. Will he ever understand the hurt he has caused? This is all she can think as she sits alone and wonders when she will be healed.
Chains around my wrist, chains around my ankles. COncrete walls bleeding moss, sick blue lighting coming from a window that too high to see out of.
everyone is punished for crimes they didn’t commit,
it’s always a lesson learned too late
when it turns out
that
you’re serving someone else’s sentence
but there’s someone out there who’s doing the same for you
and they have no idea what they did to deserve it.
This word is filled with resentment and pain. One’s imagines a person who has been severely punishment for a crime never committed. A dog who didn’t know any better. A friend who had no idea it meant so much.
punished is often a word used to describe the result of negative actions. if you do something bad, you will get punished. often put in place for children younger than about 13, it is an action usually carried out by parents when their children do something wrong, to act as a negative reinforcement.
Being punished is a bad thing. you get punished because you did something bad. Being punished for some thing like being happy is outrageous. i mean what? Why would you get punished for that?
she was punished for mouthing back at her captor. The man, who smelled aboslutely repugnant growled at her, smacking her across the face. She spat at him, and he roared. She could do nothing as he back handed her once more, leaving a red mark on her now bruising face.
“Why do you do this?!” She screamed at him, and he scoffed at her while rolling his eyes.
“Because I can, you stupid little bitch.” He answered.
We are punished for being different. We live in a world where if you don’t fit in the cookie cutter image of how some one should, look or act, we are taught that it wrong. However, i believe that is where great things are made.
Yeah, my Dom is a jerk. Beating me when I don’t deserve it and ignoring me when I do, it’s no wonder I’ve gone ballistic. And he can’t blame me when I seek out “supplementary training”. What’re you gonna do, hit me? You do more than enough of that already.
Well, the first thing that comes to mind is my father. It was never merited- myself, I never did anything wrong, My mom acknowledged that. Often he would come home drunk or get drunk and he would scream and break many objects in the house… to my knowledge, he never physically harmed anyone, but I am still emotionally scarred.
Papa.
The chains wrapped up and around her legs, like snakes writhing all across her skin. A fiery sensation crept up her body, like the licks of thousands of flames. She twisted and turned, trying to break free from the smelly, dirty mess, but she couldn’t escape its clutches. No one could.
with some salt in the wound,
for deeds too terrible to speak.
a snail writhed on the ground
next to him,
paying a heavier penance than him
for the light crime of existence.
There are no bars on his prison, and somehow, that’s worse. They know that he won’t go anywhere, because they know that he knows he deserves his punishment. Self-loathing binds him there, which he decides is the worst kind of punishment of all.
I read this word and I flip flop through scenarios… punished. A naughty child who waxed the floor with maple syrup. A teenager skipping class. A romantic interlude with some role-playing fun and a pair of wicked grins.
a hurtful word
reminds me of the genre of music, deathcore – b.c its a hateful genre
punishment can sometimes set you straight
its a good thing
One minute. Sit there and don’t move. Your eyes must stay watching the clock.
One more minute! You looked away. You know you weren’t supposed to spread glue over Suzie’s project and you did it anyways. We play nice with the other kids and keep our hands to ourself.
Your two minutes are done. Go out to recess, I don’t want to see you causing trouble again.
I had a boyfriend who didn’t let me talk to anyone, ever. He’d make me feel guilty for even talking to family members. If he caught me talking to anyone besides him for any other reason besides something important, he’d punish me by slapping me. Sometimes he’d punch me in the stomach. I hate him so much.
Why am I being punished? I have done nothing wrong. Everything in my past can be explained through logic and reasoning. But none of that matters. I’m used to people not understanding me. I was born different. And while murder may seem to most as outrageous and wrong, I can assure you there was good reason. She had it coming.
justice, police, hero, assasain
Punished. I remember the time in preschool when Mrs. Kitchen made Matt Healy and I wash the tables after we ran across them. At the time, it was sort of frustrating, but later on, I realized that it was a perfect consequence. We dirtied the tables with our shoes, and we had to clean them. I wish the rest of the world would work like that. What would our prison system look like if the punishment always fit the crime?
The child decided that he would run away. Never would he return to his home. He packed his teddy bear and a snack in a plastic shopping bag and headed for the unknown. He made sure the door slammed loudly on his way out. He took each step heavily and was sure to rustle as many branches as he could between the stoop and the street. When he got there, the cars whizzing fast at such unbelievable speed made him stop. From the window, half hidden by a curtain, his mother’s heart pounded. She didn’t go out to stop him. She wanted to run out the door, grab his arm and yank him back. Something held her glued to the spot. In thirty seconds, just as she could not longer stand it, he turned and waled back to the house, head down, tears glistening.
I hate being punished as a child. It was never a physically punishment of abuse; it was more of a mental punishment. The disappointment in my superiors voices was enough punishment to torture myself.
I hate being punished as a child. It was never a physically punishment of abuse; it was more of a mental punishment. The disappointment in my superiors voices was enough punishment to torture myself.
what happens when a wrong is done. It can be cruel and unfair but thats only the fun ones. ;)
I feel punished
the pain is horrible. I need it I deserve it. I deserve this pain and torture, the punishment is mine and I need to accept that it will last my lifetime. I need this hell. I deserve to be punished.
I do.
l need the punishment, because it is now me.
What am I being punished for? What have I done wrong? I am stuck in my cell waiting for this countdown to be no more. I want to see her beautiful face, for it has been so long. And as I am here serving my time, I feel so blessed that she will always be mine
<3
People become punished because of things they do. Everything has a consequence, whether you know it or not. That’s why people don’t do anything, in fear of being punished. But they aren’t afraid of being punished. They’re afraid of what happens after the punishment. Does life go on? Or is it just stuck, in a slow-paced, monotonous, phase?
What am I being punished for? What have I done wrong? I am stuck in my cell waiting for this countdown to be no more. I want to see her beautiful face, for it has been so long. And as I am here serving my time, I feel so blessed that she will always be mine.
I cannot seem to break through my passionate self-consciousness….to the point where my confidence is debilitated and my doubt grows exponentially. Will I ever reach an understanding with myself? Must my self-assuredness be continually punished by my over-developed sense of inferiority?
I sat in the corner, silent. I had earned it, of course. Yet, it was always unpleasant to feel the cold, hard wall on my forehead. That singular feeling that would always be associated with the wrong deed I had previously committed.
His eyes were looking at his mother. Those eyes were the gate to the anger and the sadness collected over 40 years, only for you. Those were not the eyes that woke you, those were the eyes that burn you.
If one is to be punished, then they must have done something very severe. The word “punishment” is relative to each person. Nobody deserved to be punished in a way that will ruin their lives forever. However, punishment (in certain cases) can be a means of teaching a lesson.
I no longer feel punished as a result of being alone. I enjoy the silence of being without comany.
chained to the wall, whip and belt aquiver
light at the end of the tunnel turns into a sliver
mister is it a crime that i happen to miss her
sour taste like a blister in the way of a tongue twister
And it’s all I can do to walk through this hall once again. Last time, we walked together. Last time, I was walking toward something I thought we both wanted. But I know better now. Each time we screw up, I learn an entirely new lesson. My hand rises, holding a white paper with the tape ready to stick the message into his brain. My fingers run over the wooden door, making sure it stays. I smile at the three words before making a swift exit. I hope the phrase remains in his head for the next time.
Don’t flatter yourself.
“Bertie, what on earth….” I gasped in horror.
Albert, though we all called him Bertie, was the mischievous ‘animal’ in our house.
Our father always complained that he was a disgrace to our family.
“Oh hi Sissy,” he responded with a cheeky smile.
His lips were traced with dripping jam and his petite mouth was stuffed with the butter cake Nanny had baked that morning.
Suddenly, the timer expired. Where had the time gone?
Fortunately, there was no punishment for procrastination.
Pain. All I could feel was pain. Deep down, in my heart, my head, all over my body. All from her. From her glare.
I had done what I said I would not do. And she looked at me. The way… they way… she was punishing me. I had never know someone could be so successful. Oh the pain.
I am punished.
hurt, sad, crying, without justice, nor morality to make it better. no wise words heal, no people look in sympathy. alone, dark, gloomy, prison. dying, worse than dying, worse than anything. guilt distant pleasure and lust. crazy
i dot like being punished i dont like being yelled at and i dont like being hit. why in the world would punishment even exist. it maybe because some people deserve it and others cant live without it.
Broken. Bruised. Cracked. Crushed.
That’s how he made her feel. Punished for caring too much. Punished for wanting more. Punished for being the girl she was meant to be. Will he ever understand the hurt he has caused? This is all she can think as she sits alone and wonders when she will be healed.