She knew he was violent. She knew the risk, but she couldn’t help it. She loved him. Everyone had warned her and she kept telling herself that he would keep his promise. He would never hit her again. “I deserved it” she would tell herself. “I shouldn’t have said that”. Deep down she knew she hadn’t done anything, that this was all him. She just loved him to much. God only knew why. She was trapped. If she left she would have a broken heart, but if she stayed…who knew what could happen. So she stayed. She stayed and covered the bruises and scars with makeup, plastered her mask of happiness on, and faced her day.
Introductions, as far as most people are concerned, can very well determine, even at great lengths, the quantity and quality of whatever relationship will follow. They can also create an artificial air, something that seems on the surface to be one thing, but after subsequent meetings, depending on the nature of these visits, can be another completely, thereby making the interactions a sort of staged play, with each actor performing ad-lib their parts, be they perfect or errant. Those of the more sensitive sub-groups, they that are affected more by the actions of others on the surface or not, tend to be part of the first group mentioned, they will make hasty decisions based on the initial wordplay. They seek out those that are calm, sensitive, and peaceful. They avoid the cocky and the violent, they feel as if they were abused by the confrontation, if their soul could be bruised the violet light would rapidly encase their luminosity, needing immediate attention and rest. Fortunately for the sensitive, this is not the case, and most of the time the violet color is no more than that of their cheeks,
He shook and shuddered ceaselessly. Vibrations racked his body with a violence that even he had not expected, he gasped for air but still the hands would not let go.
“You have a strong will for life my boy,” said the man “but none may take my stock with out punishment.”
People, specially kids are becoming very violent today. The kids are becoming violent because of the TV shows and the violent games available today. The whole generation is going into the violent phase where everyone is their own boss.
She felt the knife plunge into her side. “Is it over?” she thought to herself. She had come face to face with death before, but this time it was different.
It was a violent encounter, passionate and full of rage. It was the best time I’d ever had with her. We bit just as much as we kissed. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.
he leapt up the chair and kicked the table violently. it flew across the room and i backed against the wall, I’d never seen him in such a rage. I didn’t know whether I was more alarmed or aroused by this show of passion.
the trees sway in the wind, thrashing about like angry fish out of water. the tears of the sky fall down on leaves, rattling them, making them feel like harsh and battered abusers of the innocent. yes the trees feel but cannot speak.
Her eyes were streaked red with tears and she yelped as his hand raised again above his hand in preparation for his next blow. Her face was hot, her hands were sweaty and her body was shaking uncontrollably. she didn’t know why he did this. was it something she said? Did she bring it out in him? Was it all her fault?
violent can be attributed to many things;
natural, man made, horrific and overwhelming.
you say a violent storm and
imagine a symphony.
you say a violent marriage and
imagine a disaster.
you say a violent harmony and
experience an oxymoron?
While walking across the smooth, wet concrete, Tommy reminisced about how he always imagined life being like this. Getting here had been the roughest and most violent journey though. His family’s emotions were shredded into fragments and left on the cracked asphalt for years, stuck together by the dried up spit of his enemies.
A violent wrenching of the house told Jensen that it wasn’t just a battering ram hitting the front door. The angel dropped the shotgun and leaped for the bed to hold the naked hummer, who was still trussed like a stuffed goose. Jensen moved toward her just as the front door blew off the hinges and a man in a deep green uniform appeared.
tendencies are too much. they live deep w/in. and ppl always try to pull them outta me. i don’t wanna be violent towards ppl, but they always push my invisible button. and then i explode. and then ppl think i’m crazy. but i’m not crazy. i’m just tired of being used. all the time.
Maura pressed Gwen to the wall, mouth at her neck and sucking hard– marking. Gwen merely huffed a breath and dragged her closer. Violence. What an odd thing to get off on.
He was violent. I had never seen him like that before. He had changed. It didn’t matter that after he hurt me he said he loved me. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was who I was when I was with him. I was someone different. Different from my sister. My sister was strong, she would have told someone the first time he did it. But I didn’t, I was weak. And it didn’t matter how many times he did it. There were flashes I saw sometimes right after he hit me. You could tell he didn’t know what was going on, like his hand, bunched up and so close to my face wasn’t his. Like he didn’t know why I had so many bruises. An I felt sorry for him, his dad was doing the same thing to him.
I have a violent headache right now. The kind that makes it impossible to think straight, muchless see straight. My thoughts, my vision are all wavy. The sound is blurry. the light is getting dimmer, then pulses bright again.
the violent streets run rampage with no sound of serenity, but with calamity, anger and insecurity. the violent people run wild with nowhere to go but expect their voices to be heard with nothing but bloodshed and destruction. what will be next for us? only…
She lashed out violently, screaming epithets and spitting at the police. After all, what had they done for her? Watched as she was beaten by the man she called her husband? And for what?
The boy trashed around in the empty room. The room that appeared soft and inviting but wasn’t really. It was a place for the dangerous. Specially made for people like him with a violent streak staining their honest hearts. Trapped in safety.
Her manner was somewhat seemingly obtrusive as she clenched her fists and glared at what lay before her. The smoking gun lay hot and used, almost crumpled at her feet. The blood oozed toward her, she inched backwards, then let go. It engulfed her feet. This was the longest 3 minutes of her life.
in thought, word, or deed it’s not me, though at times – weak times – i wish to be. a deep rush, from below, pushing up through me, turning purple, a weakness – like diseases, purely organic and mine alone – rising, rising, drowing until i can’t think or breathe or see or be. then it’s gone. for now. but its there like a subterrainian something – a shadow unseen, maybe – but always there.
oh my god! What happens now? I haven’t seen this before, this sudden eruption. He’s been so calm all these years, but now I think this violent “streak” is here to stay. There is no easy way out. I’m lost.
Her piercing scream was rivaling the wind’s scowl as warm, steamy tears covered her face. She was inconsolable. Her life would never be the same again. Nothing could give back what the storm had taken away from her. Her father, her childhood; her home. She couldn’t help but wish the storm had taken her too, but now, all she could do was wonder. Why her? Why…
And then this sick feeling washed over me, my insides turned to jelly, what if?…And then it just happened, I was blind. Blind as I could not see, just darkness. Fear, sudden and violent, I was afraid.
“Ouch!” She screamed. “Quit hitting me! Why are you so violent?” But the cactus merely cackled and swung its rather large arms at her face again and again.
You never started with that approach. But he did and I never told you. He’s an angry person. He raped me time after time again. I said no. I was unaware that constituted as rape. Now I go to Slut-Walks.
a violent love can make you weep
it can make you bruise
it can make you sleep
an eternity in a wordless slumber
only because it was your fault he couldn’t keep
his emotions locked away
death is the price you pay
I think being violent is never the answer. I learned that the hard way- from watching people constantly fight and solve nothing. And really, what were they hoping to solve? What problem can be solved by physically stopping another person? I finally found one actually…her name is Nina.
There is absolutely nothing good about violence. It distances you away from everyone else and makes you a bully and a bully is nothing but bad. I despise violence and hope that everyone can deter from it so every other person benefits from kindness instead. Although it is bad, it can bring together people who are willing to fight against it and destroy its adverse effects on society.
She knew he was violent. She knew the risk, but she couldn’t help it. She loved him. Everyone had warned her and she kept telling herself that he would keep his promise. He would never hit her again. “I deserved it” she would tell herself. “I shouldn’t have said that”. Deep down she knew she hadn’t done anything, that this was all him. She just loved him to much. God only knew why. She was trapped. If she left she would have a broken heart, but if she stayed…who knew what could happen. So she stayed. She stayed and covered the bruises and scars with makeup, plastered her mask of happiness on, and faced her day.
Introductions, as far as most people are concerned, can very well determine, even at great lengths, the quantity and quality of whatever relationship will follow. They can also create an artificial air, something that seems on the surface to be one thing, but after subsequent meetings, depending on the nature of these visits, can be another completely, thereby making the interactions a sort of staged play, with each actor performing ad-lib their parts, be they perfect or errant. Those of the more sensitive sub-groups, they that are affected more by the actions of others on the surface or not, tend to be part of the first group mentioned, they will make hasty decisions based on the initial wordplay. They seek out those that are calm, sensitive, and peaceful. They avoid the cocky and the violent, they feel as if they were abused by the confrontation, if their soul could be bruised the violet light would rapidly encase their luminosity, needing immediate attention and rest. Fortunately for the sensitive, this is not the case, and most of the time the violet color is no more than that of their cheeks,
Violent was the breath that spewed its hatred to his unsuspecting love.
He shook and shuddered ceaselessly. Vibrations racked his body with a violence that even he had not expected, he gasped for air but still the hands would not let go.
“You have a strong will for life my boy,” said the man “but none may take my stock with out punishment.”
Violet was violent, she punched and kicked, screamed and blocked, hurt but never got hurt.
The violent way in which people talk nowadays
has to come to an end
because we’re not in the medieval age
The beauty of patience we have lost
People, specially kids are becoming very violent today. The kids are becoming violent because of the TV shows and the violent games available today. The whole generation is going into the violent phase where everyone is their own boss.
She felt the knife plunge into her side. “Is it over?” she thought to herself. She had come face to face with death before, but this time it was different.
He grabbed her. It hadn’t been the first time something like this had happened. She had become immune to the pain.
It was a violent encounter, passionate and full of rage. It was the best time I’d ever had with her. We bit just as much as we kissed. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.
he leapt up the chair and kicked the table violently. it flew across the room and i backed against the wall, I’d never seen him in such a rage. I didn’t know whether I was more alarmed or aroused by this show of passion.
the trees sway in the wind, thrashing about like angry fish out of water. the tears of the sky fall down on leaves, rattling them, making them feel like harsh and battered abusers of the innocent. yes the trees feel but cannot speak.
Her eyes were streaked red with tears and she yelped as his hand raised again above his hand in preparation for his next blow. Her face was hot, her hands were sweaty and her body was shaking uncontrollably. she didn’t know why he did this. was it something she said? Did she bring it out in him? Was it all her fault?
hurtful
pointless
mean
not a solution
personality
selfish
weak
emotionally sick
violent can be attributed to many things;
natural, man made, horrific and overwhelming.
you say a violent storm and
imagine a symphony.
you say a violent marriage and
imagine a disaster.
you say a violent harmony and
experience an oxymoron?
While walking across the smooth, wet concrete, Tommy reminisced about how he always imagined life being like this. Getting here had been the roughest and most violent journey though. His family’s emotions were shredded into fragments and left on the cracked asphalt for years, stuck together by the dried up spit of his enemies.
Life is shining on him, finally!
Everyday in the newspaper and on the TV and on the internet there are so many people being violent to each other. Beatings and burnings and hatred.
A violent wrenching of the house told Jensen that it wasn’t just a battering ram hitting the front door. The angel dropped the shotgun and leaped for the bed to hold the naked hummer, who was still trussed like a stuffed goose. Jensen moved toward her just as the front door blew off the hinges and a man in a deep green uniform appeared.
tendencies are too much. they live deep w/in. and ppl always try to pull them outta me. i don’t wanna be violent towards ppl, but they always push my invisible button. and then i explode. and then ppl think i’m crazy. but i’m not crazy. i’m just tired of being used. all the time.
how unusual it is. that I am not violent at the current situation. Usually I would have beat it into submission by now.
Perhaps that there is no direction for the violence to go… it is unattainable substances and forces that I am unhappy with.
but maybe it is just acceptance that has come in place of violence.
Maura pressed Gwen to the wall, mouth at her neck and sucking hard– marking. Gwen merely huffed a breath and dragged her closer. Violence. What an odd thing to get off on.
He was violent. I had never seen him like that before. He had changed. It didn’t matter that after he hurt me he said he loved me. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was who I was when I was with him. I was someone different. Different from my sister. My sister was strong, she would have told someone the first time he did it. But I didn’t, I was weak. And it didn’t matter how many times he did it. There were flashes I saw sometimes right after he hit me. You could tell he didn’t know what was going on, like his hand, bunched up and so close to my face wasn’t his. Like he didn’t know why I had so many bruises. An I felt sorry for him, his dad was doing the same thing to him.
thrashing against the bars like wild fire crashing onto the water trying to break through, but the fire can’t have that, too.
I have a violent headache right now. The kind that makes it impossible to think straight, muchless see straight. My thoughts, my vision are all wavy. The sound is blurry. the light is getting dimmer, then pulses bright again.
You are the horror to garner sympathy for my plight and the secondary action sequence to back up my daredevil plot.
the violent streets run rampage with no sound of serenity, but with calamity, anger and insecurity. the violent people run wild with nowhere to go but expect their voices to be heard with nothing but bloodshed and destruction. what will be next for us? only…
She lashed out violently, screaming epithets and spitting at the police. After all, what had they done for her? Watched as she was beaten by the man she called her husband? And for what?
The boy trashed around in the empty room. The room that appeared soft and inviting but wasn’t really. It was a place for the dangerous. Specially made for people like him with a violent streak staining their honest hearts. Trapped in safety.
Her manner was somewhat seemingly obtrusive as she clenched her fists and glared at what lay before her. The smoking gun lay hot and used, almost crumpled at her feet. The blood oozed toward her, she inched backwards, then let go. It engulfed her feet. This was the longest 3 minutes of her life.
my black friend is violent all the time to me and he tries to rap
in thought, word, or deed it’s not me, though at times – weak times – i wish to be. a deep rush, from below, pushing up through me, turning purple, a weakness – like diseases, purely organic and mine alone – rising, rising, drowing until i can’t think or breathe or see or be. then it’s gone. for now. but its there like a subterrainian something – a shadow unseen, maybe – but always there.
oh my god! What happens now? I haven’t seen this before, this sudden eruption. He’s been so calm all these years, but now I think this violent “streak” is here to stay. There is no easy way out. I’m lost.
Her piercing scream was rivaling the wind’s scowl as warm, steamy tears covered her face. She was inconsolable. Her life would never be the same again. Nothing could give back what the storm had taken away from her. Her father, her childhood; her home. She couldn’t help but wish the storm had taken her too, but now, all she could do was wonder. Why her? Why…
And then this sick feeling washed over me, my insides turned to jelly, what if?…And then it just happened, I was blind. Blind as I could not see, just darkness. Fear, sudden and violent, I was afraid.
“Ouch!” She screamed. “Quit hitting me! Why are you so violent?” But the cactus merely cackled and swung its rather large arms at her face again and again.
Violent. I threw a textbook once. Not at him. To scare him. To get him to shut up. He deserved it. He did.
You never started with that approach. But he did and I never told you. He’s an angry person. He raped me time after time again. I said no. I was unaware that constituted as rape. Now I go to Slut-Walks.
a violent love can make you weep
it can make you bruise
it can make you sleep
an eternity in a wordless slumber
only because it was your fault he couldn’t keep
his emotions locked away
death is the price you pay
I think being violent is never the answer. I learned that the hard way- from watching people constantly fight and solve nothing. And really, what were they hoping to solve? What problem can be solved by physically stopping another person? I finally found one actually…her name is Nina.
There is absolutely nothing good about violence. It distances you away from everyone else and makes you a bully and a bully is nothing but bad. I despise violence and hope that everyone can deter from it so every other person benefits from kindness instead. Although it is bad, it can bring together people who are willing to fight against it and destroy its adverse effects on society.