What is strength? It is the power to push forward. One who has no strength cannot push forward. It’s a conundrum, is it not? You don’t know who the weaklings are, do you?
sometimes the words don’t come easily
anxiety
stuttering silently
never quite happily
weaker than a weakling
blank paged and eyes flipped back
noting nothings and writing rewrite
smile inching ever closer
to never again.
Being nice doesn’t make you weak. People will try to make you do things because they know you will say yes. But sometimes we say yes because they need it more than we do.
to be weak.
to be hurt.
to be alone.
it’s when you think everything is impossible.. so you deprive yourself of confidence.
i’ve been weak.
but i was lucky enough to meet two people that changed my life.
The lamest of the group, the one with little ambition, except to live. Left behind while the rest pursue their dreams, excelling at school and in their workplaces, the weakling stays as she always has, dreaming dreams too big for her pathetic, talentless self, condemned to a life of mediocrity and disappointment.
The boy was pushed to the ground. He thought finally being in high school would make a difference. Even here, though, the torment never ended. He was the weakling.
One day, he thought, One day, I’ll show them that just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I have to be small. I’ll show them that even someone like me can be as strong as- no, stronger than them.
From that day on, the boy lived, breathed, and slept with the gym on his mind. He never would have thought that, when he moved away to college and found his new gym in California, he would fall in love with a man lifting for the very same reasons.
I let my fingers dance across every petal and leaf within my reach, watching as they flutter in the end, only stilled by the presence of fingertips. Warmth trickles across my flesh, slowly heating only to cool quickly as a breeze ruffles the foliage high above my head and blokes the sun for a moment. Stretching, I pluck a bud from it’s home and twirl it between my fingertips, watching as the morning dew sparkles like hundreds of diamonds. I allow a smile to spread across my face as the bud slips from my fingers and tumbles across the ground, only to be stopped by the sole of my foot, crushing it’s shell and smearing rosy petals.
The sapling was considered a weakling,…
crooked
skinny
and stunted
little did they know that it was a clever trick…
all involved overlooked her
in favor of the others that were cut
& taken from the only home they knew
one little ugly duckling is a weakling
and all his brothers and sisters hate him because he cant quack or swim or be mean like them so they exile him to the pigs pen where he becomes friends with an obese pig and they live happily ever after!
I AM WEAK. A WEAKLING, I HARM MYSELF INSTEAD OF DEALING WITH PAIN. THAT MAKES ME WEAK. I AM WEAK BECAUSE I CRY OVER SILLY THINGS AND FALL TOO FAST FOR KIND PEOPLE. I AM JUST SO WEAK.
The door opened in a flourish, and you stepped inside, bringing all of winter in with you. There was a light scent about you; you smelled of bitter winds, and boughs laden with snow, and frost on a windowpane. Your cheeks were rosy from the chill, your eyes alight and dancing.
How I wished it were not the cold that kindled the fire behind your eyes, or made your face flush scarlet.
He falls as it hits him.
He feels pain but doesn’t know where it came from.
A hole in his body.
His body cries red.
He feels weak.
They can’t pick him up.
“Common, don’t be such a weakling! Get up!”
His eyes close.
“There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming greif, deep contrition, and unspeakable love”-Washington Irving. He knew what a weakling is not, and what power is.
It’s stronger than you, just as it always has been. You promised me you’d fight back. All I want you to do is hold onto me instead, hold onto a world where your emotions don’t pull you under the branches of the willow tree on campus. They make love to you as if you are their oldest friend.
You will never stop being a weakling until you decide to become stronger. Be it circumstance or motivation, becoming stronger is a matter of doing, not complaining.
that’s what they call people who don’t throw the football the length of acceptance, people who can sing or dance or paint or solve equations but if you can’t lift bar
The spawnling is a weakling in its first few hours. But nature had her ways for it to be nurtured during its delicate infancy. Emergent, it would flourish if caressed and cared for deeply, lost to the cruelty of the world if not.
The first bonds are the strongest. And the most dominate are those tones murmured to the spawnling before it even comes to know the light of day.
Can you imagine poor little creature. He acts as if he is so strong but he is really just another one of the conforming society. Weak. He conforms with them but acts better. Pure weakness in what us humans think as strength. I laugh at him
She lies nestled in a bundle of blankets, a weakling child who moves mountains of men, the light in her eyes speaks of stars and singing. Weak she may be to the wind and the rain but there is something within.
Can anyone be called a weakling in this vale of tears? It seems everyone is weak. All of us have our issues, our crosses, and so I can’t stand it when one stands above another and criticizes. All of our sins are about ourselves, on a very fundamental level, and since no one is beyond their own ego, we all become weak.
My knees buckle under the weight of my dreams
My fingers grow numb, I split apart at the seams.
I fear that my ambitions have grown too heavy to bear;
That my feeble abilities simply cannot compare.
A weakling is a pretty interesting idea. It’s only a state we achieve if we allow ourselves to be completely beaten down by life’s PMS beatings. Trust God. Let him pick you up. No more weakling, eh?
He wasn’t really, but she always saw him that way. His job, his parents they proved otherwise. ANd yet, there was a facet of him that would always be as she saw him. She created his identity in ways he didn’t understand, didn’t want to understand but almost enjoyed.
Everyone is a weakling at one point in their lives. It may seem like being a weakling is the worst thing in the world. But in fact, being a weakling will give you some perspective and insight. It will help you to understand the importance of treating people right. You will begin to empathize with other weaklings. It is a great way to learn more about yourself and other people
someone who is weakened by others who are in need? someone considered weak by others who consider themselves to be stonger. an animal in need, maybe wit ha broken leg, it needs help but that doesn’t mean it can’t be strong.
“YOU’RE WEAK!” He screamed at me as I crawled away, my legs limp and useless behind me. He began to laugh. “Crawl away, dearie. Keep crawling. I can catch you.”
Xander has always been a weakling; he never was taught how to fight and most certainly was not going to start now. He was happy to be a weakling, though; that way, his true love Alzaine could fight his battles for him.
I already wrote today, but I will write again. I AM a weakling. I cut myself and blame it on everything else around me; although it is really just me. I’m crazy, suicidal. I lie about it, I lie to my mother, my school counselor and anyone else who asks. They all know the truth. They see the cuts. They know, but I don’t care. I’m weak, and that’s really all there is to it.
Quietly, quietly. Stick to the shadows and wait. There was no room for weaklings here. Not here. Perhaps back with his grandparents where he could bask in comfort, but not here in this oppressive place with an absent father, an alcoholic mother, and too many people who believed that brute strength was everything.
I am a weakling. I cut myself and blame it on everything else around me, meanwhile it’s really just me and how fucked up my mind is. I like inflicting pain on myself, even though I lie about it to my mother and everyone else who asks. They’d think I’m crazy, I can’t let them think that. I have to lie. I like my life, don’t get me wrong; but most days I wanna kill myself and that’s alI really know. Whatever, my life’s ruined anyways.
someone who is inferior muscularly,they cannot compete with a stronger member of their species or most other species. they cannot complete difficult tasks
A weakling in my estimation is someone who does not stand up for his convictions, who succumbs to the mass attitudes. He does not stand up particularly when he is the only one.
I think about a weakling as someone on the beach with no muscles. People kick sand into their faces. I feel sorry for those people. It is so unfair to them. They didn’t ask to be in that body. Why would people be so mean? Sometimes I am a weakling. I can’t even open a new jar of something without asking someone to help me. It is frustrating.
I don’t know if you could call him a weakling, per se, but I do know that his cowardice created a crippling effect, rendering his arms completely ineffective.
What is strength? It is the power to push forward. One who has no strength cannot push forward. It’s a conundrum, is it not? You don’t know who the weaklings are, do you?
sometimes the words don’t come easily
anxiety
stuttering silently
never quite happily
weaker than a weakling
blank paged and eyes flipped back
noting nothings and writing rewrite
smile inching ever closer
to never again.
Being nice doesn’t make you weak. People will try to make you do things because they know you will say yes. But sometimes we say yes because they need it more than we do.
to be weak.
to be hurt.
to be alone.
it’s when you think everything is impossible.. so you deprive yourself of confidence.
i’ve been weak.
but i was lucky enough to meet two people that changed my life.
The lamest of the group, the one with little ambition, except to live. Left behind while the rest pursue their dreams, excelling at school and in their workplaces, the weakling stays as she always has, dreaming dreams too big for her pathetic, talentless self, condemned to a life of mediocrity and disappointment.
The boy was pushed to the ground. He thought finally being in high school would make a difference. Even here, though, the torment never ended. He was the weakling.
One day, he thought, One day, I’ll show them that just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I have to be small. I’ll show them that even someone like me can be as strong as- no, stronger than them.
From that day on, the boy lived, breathed, and slept with the gym on his mind. He never would have thought that, when he moved away to college and found his new gym in California, he would fall in love with a man lifting for the very same reasons.
I let my fingers dance across every petal and leaf within my reach, watching as they flutter in the end, only stilled by the presence of fingertips. Warmth trickles across my flesh, slowly heating only to cool quickly as a breeze ruffles the foliage high above my head and blokes the sun for a moment. Stretching, I pluck a bud from it’s home and twirl it between my fingertips, watching as the morning dew sparkles like hundreds of diamonds. I allow a smile to spread across my face as the bud slips from my fingers and tumbles across the ground, only to be stopped by the sole of my foot, crushing it’s shell and smearing rosy petals.
The sapling was considered a weakling,…
crooked
skinny
and stunted
little did they know that it was a clever trick…
all involved overlooked her
in favor of the others that were cut
& taken from the only home they knew
one little ugly duckling is a weakling
and all his brothers and sisters hate him because he cant quack or swim or be mean like them so they exile him to the pigs pen where he becomes friends with an obese pig and they live happily ever after!
I AM WEAK. A WEAKLING, I HARM MYSELF INSTEAD OF DEALING WITH PAIN. THAT MAKES ME WEAK. I AM WEAK BECAUSE I CRY OVER SILLY THINGS AND FALL TOO FAST FOR KIND PEOPLE. I AM JUST SO WEAK.
The door opened in a flourish, and you stepped inside, bringing all of winter in with you. There was a light scent about you; you smelled of bitter winds, and boughs laden with snow, and frost on a windowpane. Your cheeks were rosy from the chill, your eyes alight and dancing.
How I wished it were not the cold that kindled the fire behind your eyes, or made your face flush scarlet.
He falls as it hits him.
He feels pain but doesn’t know where it came from.
A hole in his body.
His body cries red.
He feels weak.
They can’t pick him up.
“Common, don’t be such a weakling! Get up!”
His eyes close.
puppy chicken child orphan sad tears grey hungry
“There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming greif, deep contrition, and unspeakable love”-Washington Irving. He knew what a weakling is not, and what power is.
It’s stronger than you, just as it always has been. You promised me you’d fight back. All I want you to do is hold onto me instead, hold onto a world where your emotions don’t pull you under the branches of the willow tree on campus. They make love to you as if you are their oldest friend.
You will never stop being a weakling until you decide to become stronger. Be it circumstance or motivation, becoming stronger is a matter of doing, not complaining.
To complain is weak. To move forward is strong.
that’s what they call people who don’t throw the football the length of acceptance, people who can sing or dance or paint or solve equations but if you can’t lift bar
The spawnling is a weakling in its first few hours. But nature had her ways for it to be nurtured during its delicate infancy. Emergent, it would flourish if caressed and cared for deeply, lost to the cruelty of the world if not.
The first bonds are the strongest. And the most dominate are those tones murmured to the spawnling before it even comes to know the light of day.
Can you imagine poor little creature. He acts as if he is so strong but he is really just another one of the conforming society. Weak. He conforms with them but acts better. Pure weakness in what us humans think as strength. I laugh at him
crushed in her palm
i swear i gave it my all
but i am only human
lost in the body i grew in
i am weak to her meek sensibilities
someone who is very week. someone who can’t stand up for themselves. that someone who needs the extra support. weakling is the weakest thing to be.
She lies nestled in a bundle of blankets, a weakling child who moves mountains of men, the light in her eyes speaks of stars and singing. Weak she may be to the wind and the rain but there is something within.
Can anyone be called a weakling in this vale of tears? It seems everyone is weak. All of us have our issues, our crosses, and so I can’t stand it when one stands above another and criticizes. All of our sins are about ourselves, on a very fundamental level, and since no one is beyond their own ego, we all become weak.
My knees buckle under the weight of my dreams
My fingers grow numb, I split apart at the seams.
I fear that my ambitions have grown too heavy to bear;
That my feeble abilities simply cannot compare.
A weakling is a pretty interesting idea. It’s only a state we achieve if we allow ourselves to be completely beaten down by life’s PMS beatings. Trust God. Let him pick you up. No more weakling, eh?
He wasn’t really, but she always saw him that way. His job, his parents they proved otherwise. ANd yet, there was a facet of him that would always be as she saw him. She created his identity in ways he didn’t understand, didn’t want to understand but almost enjoyed.
Everyone is a weakling at one point in their lives. It may seem like being a weakling is the worst thing in the world. But in fact, being a weakling will give you some perspective and insight. It will help you to understand the importance of treating people right. You will begin to empathize with other weaklings. It is a great way to learn more about yourself and other people
someone who is weakened by others who are in need? someone considered weak by others who consider themselves to be stonger. an animal in need, maybe wit ha broken leg, it needs help but that doesn’t mean it can’t be strong.
“YOU’RE WEAK!” He screamed at me as I crawled away, my legs limp and useless behind me. He began to laugh. “Crawl away, dearie. Keep crawling. I can catch you.”
Xander has always been a weakling; he never was taught how to fight and most certainly was not going to start now. He was happy to be a weakling, though; that way, his true love Alzaine could fight his battles for him.
I already wrote today, but I will write again. I AM a weakling. I cut myself and blame it on everything else around me; although it is really just me. I’m crazy, suicidal. I lie about it, I lie to my mother, my school counselor and anyone else who asks. They all know the truth. They see the cuts. They know, but I don’t care. I’m weak, and that’s really all there is to it.
a young person which is weak. it has no negative connotation. it conceives that young person has no other option than being weak.
Quietly, quietly. Stick to the shadows and wait. There was no room for weaklings here. Not here. Perhaps back with his grandparents where he could bask in comfort, but not here in this oppressive place with an absent father, an alcoholic mother, and too many people who believed that brute strength was everything.
I am a weakling. I cut myself and blame it on everything else around me, meanwhile it’s really just me and how fucked up my mind is. I like inflicting pain on myself, even though I lie about it to my mother and everyone else who asks. They’d think I’m crazy, I can’t let them think that. I have to lie. I like my life, don’t get me wrong; but most days I wanna kill myself and that’s alI really know. Whatever, my life’s ruined anyways.
someone who is inferior muscularly,they cannot compete with a stronger member of their species or most other species. they cannot complete difficult tasks
“I never said it would be easy,” Pete said with a smirk, a gleam of pleasure flashing through eyes that viewed pain as a game.
A weakling in my estimation is someone who does not stand up for his convictions, who succumbs to the mass attitudes. He does not stand up particularly when he is the only one.
I think about a weakling as someone on the beach with no muscles. People kick sand into their faces. I feel sorry for those people. It is so unfair to them. They didn’t ask to be in that body. Why would people be so mean? Sometimes I am a weakling. I can’t even open a new jar of something without asking someone to help me. It is frustrating.
Weakling. That’s me. Literally and otherwise. I can barely lift anything. But I’m weak in other ways too. But those are the ones I hide.
I don’t know if you could call him a weakling, per se, but I do know that his cowardice created a crippling effect, rendering his arms completely ineffective.