She looks at each one of the girls with judgement
Sweetness in her bambi eyes,
but on the inside they’re criticized
like everyone else
in her sad little high school world.
Ivory
lines. wood. long.
12 feet
hit hands with
brown
beihs
numbers
Workers
black lines
ruler
sammie
I stuck my hand in the plastic bin full of flour, a red measuring spoon scooping up the white powder and pulling the heaping mass from the box. I dropped its content into the blender and watched it swirl into the other ingredients until the white was gone and had been replaced with a tan, the color of sand. Those small moments covered in powder in the kitchen were some of the best childhood memories.
Abby
we measure so much. its used to measure things but now we measure things like love. what is the measure of your love? how far can you go for me? stuff like that. I have measured the extent to which people care for me sometimes.
Prateek
grains of sand
will never do
measure time
by who you love
and who loves you
measured is math and it is about length, it shows how long something is, you can measure things in other terms opposed to length without any mathematical or scientific use. people measure things every day without even realizing it, you can measure emotion based off of feeling and measure other things as well
danielle
no you don’t add up because i’m not counting you’re not as tall as the doorway because i’m not holding a ruler our thumbs are an inch long let’s hold hands
honey
Life is measured in years and everyone thinks that there is a certain span on life. I think that life should be measured by the things you do that make you happy. A life measured by happy moments instead of age seems life a much better life. It seems like a life full of joy instead of counting and realizing you’re closer to a certain old age.
Cora Drake
I measured the exact amount of sodium to put into the bicarbonate. I was on my way to building the most dangerous plant in the universe. MUAHAHAHA. hehe.
I think sometimes we’re no different from robots. Every emotion is measured, every wish calculated. If we decide to feel everything that we feel, then what emotion is true? What is real? How can we feel anything at all?
We measure our emotions. Tell ourselves, “Okay. You should feel sad, and you should feel this amount of sad, so feel just like that.” But then, they’re not really true at all, if we tell ourselves to think that way? Are they…?
Is that as far as feeling can go?
Today I measured myself, my weight, my appearance for the day. That was my measuring, in a literal sense. But really, it measures more than that. I measures how I feel. It measures how I perceive myself. To myself and in comparison to others. There are unmeasurable things, like love, but really sadness is measurable. If your emotions are effected enough by particular things. You can measure your state of well being. Today I didn’t measure well, not in any sense. But it’s all covered, because I am fine.
it is the word to describe an amount. Something that we can tangibly understand. Ideas that cannot be measured are God’s love and the grace of Jesus Christ.
eli
Measured. It is past tense or it could be past participle but it doesn’t matter. What are the things are measured? Time? Yeah. Maybe. Love? Probably. Most people try to measure love, can you? I think love can be measured by actions not words or promises. God’s love is something that can’t be measured.
Kirsten Joyce
How does one measure a moment. How is anything measured really? It’s all human made. Man made. Crafted by men older and wiser and richer. With glasses. Maybe. And quill pens. How is a moment measured? Is it like weight? Or height? Or light? Or heavy? It’s probably heavy.
Adrienne
Measured is the past tense of measure. For example, I once measured all the stars in the universe, then promptly forgot the number. Measuring is vitally important to our nation’s survival. For example, if we didn’t measure the borders between countries, we wouldn’t have any idea whether we were in Mexico or the USA. How confusing would that be?
Apple
i’m not the kind of person who is measured, i mean i am, but not all the time. People is always telling me to stay within the limits, but i found it completely boring and besides, my limits are not theirs. At the i’m measured but just for me.
Fatimah
life is measured. Love is measured, Food is measured. Everything in life is measured by numbers, by pleasure, by girfts, by sapce.
Rebekah
Taking slow and measured breathes I continue to count until my head no longer feels like a balloon ready to burst.
I used a measureing cup to make chocoate chip cookie dough peanut butter balls with my boyfriend. which was ultimate a reeseys cup. weburnt the carm and had to make more. we went to the pig and got c
alex arsi
measured around, measure your feet. it must go down. the number must go down but the substance must be increased, strengthened, improved, rolled and riven, but the numbers must go down. they reflect more and less at the same time. smaller. but more. more dense, stronger.
Whiskeyjane
I measured my mornings in kisses, in cups
of coffee made by the hands that I love.
The time spent in bed, which we said always flew
Now seems to stop, when I wake up without you.
Gosh all I want to do is write something about some bullshit “What can you REALLY measure.” I think measuring is what life is all about. From the time you are born they take down you height and weight and the temperature of your blood and measure up against other little babies to see if you are a normal baby. Then when you get into school they measure up your ideas to other ideas to see who has the most normal ideas about raisning families or wizards.
Lady Benkenress
The baker carefully measured the ingredients to the surprise birthday cake. If anyone were to be wrong, then the entire cake would be ruined; or worse, blow up. For this was no ordinary cake; it’s ingredients were all highly explosive.
Molly F
I tried to measure love. But no, this isn’t something we measure. We don’t love less, discontentment and comparison are just present. Too much love involve greed and a misunderstanding of how love should be. Love can’t be measured, it’s indefinite. It’s infinite. Satisfaction and contentment is what we need to get enough.
To see beauty, go to the beautiful but to find beauty, go to the painful. To learn truth, go to what’s taught but to find truth, go to what’s not. The true measure of a thing is always beyond the immediate and known.
the dimensions of my talent can’t be measured because maybe i am talentless but the difference of my existence relays in my hability to work hard and express myself
i can’t be measured in the existence of opulence
i just can’t be
faith is measured in disappointments and in the moments where faith hinges on barely nothing. it’s the increments of the faithless moments, those empty life seconds where everything seems to slip away that faith can be measured. how much is present in those such empty moments, thats how much is bottled in you, how much reserve is available to you, and i hope its enough til i can bring its replacements.
measured in time or length. There’s not much to say about it. Months or inches, miles or years. It’s all the same to me. I’ve been in Vancouver for 4 months, waiting for my measurement to be up, and to stop. I miss home. Shorten up.
Michie
Measured is my reason. But that does not mean one is logical. Reason and truth, what are they. Man is the measure of all things, so said Protagoras. My brother’s dog died today. it was killed by a bigger dog. That dog measured larger than the other, smaller dog. That is what happened. What is the measured response to such a thing? What is the reasonable response? To feel sad. To mourn.
My skills are constantly measured by different teachers and different variables. On and off the athletic field. This is what life is. A measuring. Constant measuring of who we are and what we are going to potentially be. Who wins in the end? Not me. I don’t know. I really have no idea. Life is the ultimate measurement.
Kelly
I measured out my words,
that which I never did
all that I didn’t say.
In between measured breaths I collected it all up
like money tinkling into a tips jar
words fell
the ruler tapped the table, struck my knuckles
red lines grew
steve
I am measured by the words I say every day. I am measured by the way I live my life and the way I treat those closest to me. I am measured by who I am.
Sheila Good
I measure the days
By the red dripping tick marks
Down my arms
And the beautiful carvings
Woven into my legs
Not by your smiles
Or your scorn
Alias
She
poured the flour
and measured it,
leveled it out.
I still remember
the little things
Like the way
she gave me dolls
and kissed me goodnight.
Today I measured myself, my height, my weight. That was the literal measuring. I really measured my sadness. The way it all makes me feel. How well I feel I am doing in life. I didn’t measure up. I don’t compare. I am nothing compared to others. They measure up so well. So much potential, so much success. But me, I measure up to nothing. A sad, fat, ugly, depressed girl, alone in the world. Hidden, by the ease of saying I am fine. Hidden, by the fear of being defined by a label, being judged further. I’m measured against everything, and I don’t compare.
Anonymous
I measured your love in a glass too tall. And even then I found it brimming the edges; ready to spill.
Slowly, he pours sugar into his coffee, measuring the white sweetness and me with his bright blue eyes. “Death will come from this.”
Taking a deep breath, I glance at my feet before raising my gaze to his. “I know,” I say on a shaky sigh. “But. But it is the only thing I can do.”
He tilts his head to the side, inspecting me. Returning the favor, I survey his black hair with salt sprinklings that is pulled back into a loose braid; black trousers and a crisp white shirt, tucked in at the waist with one button undone; a sword swings at his hip and a dagger is hidden in his left black boot.
“There are other ways, little one,” the man speaks quietly.
“Other ways will sacrifice more lives!” I cry. Suddenly, I grow quiet. Still. Silent. “I can’t lose anyone else.
A gentle hand falls to my shoulder. I wipe the tears from my eyes.
“People don’t want to lose you either.”
measuring is what you do in science. It’s what you to do to prove you aren’t fat. measuring is a kind of poetic word I think. I measure my courage alot. It sounds sort of minical. I
She looks at each one of the girls with judgement
Sweetness in her bambi eyes,
but on the inside they’re criticized
like everyone else
in her sad little high school world.
lines. wood. long.
12 feet
hit hands with
brown
beihs
numbers
Workers
black lines
ruler
I stuck my hand in the plastic bin full of flour, a red measuring spoon scooping up the white powder and pulling the heaping mass from the box. I dropped its content into the blender and watched it swirl into the other ingredients until the white was gone and had been replaced with a tan, the color of sand. Those small moments covered in powder in the kitchen were some of the best childhood memories.
we measure so much. its used to measure things but now we measure things like love. what is the measure of your love? how far can you go for me? stuff like that. I have measured the extent to which people care for me sometimes.
grains of sand
will never do
measure time
by who you love
and who loves you
measured is math and it is about length, it shows how long something is, you can measure things in other terms opposed to length without any mathematical or scientific use. people measure things every day without even realizing it, you can measure emotion based off of feeling and measure other things as well
no you don’t add up because i’m not counting you’re not as tall as the doorway because i’m not holding a ruler our thumbs are an inch long let’s hold hands
Life is measured in years and everyone thinks that there is a certain span on life. I think that life should be measured by the things you do that make you happy. A life measured by happy moments instead of age seems life a much better life. It seems like a life full of joy instead of counting and realizing you’re closer to a certain old age.
I measured the exact amount of sodium to put into the bicarbonate. I was on my way to building the most dangerous plant in the universe. MUAHAHAHA. hehe.
I think sometimes we’re no different from robots. Every emotion is measured, every wish calculated. If we decide to feel everything that we feel, then what emotion is true? What is real? How can we feel anything at all?
We measure our emotions. Tell ourselves, “Okay. You should feel sad, and you should feel this amount of sad, so feel just like that.” But then, they’re not really true at all, if we tell ourselves to think that way? Are they…?
Is that as far as feeling can go?
Today I measured myself, my weight, my appearance for the day. That was my measuring, in a literal sense. But really, it measures more than that. I measures how I feel. It measures how I perceive myself. To myself and in comparison to others. There are unmeasurable things, like love, but really sadness is measurable. If your emotions are effected enough by particular things. You can measure your state of well being. Today I didn’t measure well, not in any sense. But it’s all covered, because I am fine.
it is the word to describe an amount. Something that we can tangibly understand. Ideas that cannot be measured are God’s love and the grace of Jesus Christ.
Measured. It is past tense or it could be past participle but it doesn’t matter. What are the things are measured? Time? Yeah. Maybe. Love? Probably. Most people try to measure love, can you? I think love can be measured by actions not words or promises. God’s love is something that can’t be measured.
How does one measure a moment. How is anything measured really? It’s all human made. Man made. Crafted by men older and wiser and richer. With glasses. Maybe. And quill pens. How is a moment measured? Is it like weight? Or height? Or light? Or heavy? It’s probably heavy.
Measured is the past tense of measure. For example, I once measured all the stars in the universe, then promptly forgot the number. Measuring is vitally important to our nation’s survival. For example, if we didn’t measure the borders between countries, we wouldn’t have any idea whether we were in Mexico or the USA. How confusing would that be?
i’m not the kind of person who is measured, i mean i am, but not all the time. People is always telling me to stay within the limits, but i found it completely boring and besides, my limits are not theirs. At the i’m measured but just for me.
life is measured. Love is measured, Food is measured. Everything in life is measured by numbers, by pleasure, by girfts, by sapce.
Taking slow and measured breathes I continue to count until my head no longer feels like a balloon ready to burst.
I used a measureing cup to make chocoate chip cookie dough peanut butter balls with my boyfriend. which was ultimate a reeseys cup. weburnt the carm and had to make more. we went to the pig and got c
measured around, measure your feet. it must go down. the number must go down but the substance must be increased, strengthened, improved, rolled and riven, but the numbers must go down. they reflect more and less at the same time. smaller. but more. more dense, stronger.
I measured my mornings in kisses, in cups
of coffee made by the hands that I love.
The time spent in bed, which we said always flew
Now seems to stop, when I wake up without you.
Gosh all I want to do is write something about some bullshit “What can you REALLY measure.” I think measuring is what life is all about. From the time you are born they take down you height and weight and the temperature of your blood and measure up against other little babies to see if you are a normal baby. Then when you get into school they measure up your ideas to other ideas to see who has the most normal ideas about raisning families or wizards.
The baker carefully measured the ingredients to the surprise birthday cake. If anyone were to be wrong, then the entire cake would be ruined; or worse, blow up. For this was no ordinary cake; it’s ingredients were all highly explosive.
I tried to measure love. But no, this isn’t something we measure. We don’t love less, discontentment and comparison are just present. Too much love involve greed and a misunderstanding of how love should be. Love can’t be measured, it’s indefinite. It’s infinite. Satisfaction and contentment is what we need to get enough.
To see beauty, go to the beautiful but to find beauty, go to the painful. To learn truth, go to what’s taught but to find truth, go to what’s not. The true measure of a thing is always beyond the immediate and known.
Measured for who I am measured against the rest but ill always put forth my best as I continue to pass every test to reach my success.
the dimensions of my talent can’t be measured because maybe i am talentless but the difference of my existence relays in my hability to work hard and express myself
i can’t be measured in the existence of opulence
i just can’t be
measured. length. yards. feet. miles.
time. seconds. minutes hours days. years. thats how long and far away i was from you.
faith is measured in disappointments and in the moments where faith hinges on barely nothing. it’s the increments of the faithless moments, those empty life seconds where everything seems to slip away that faith can be measured. how much is present in those such empty moments, thats how much is bottled in you, how much reserve is available to you, and i hope its enough til i can bring its replacements.
measured in time or length. There’s not much to say about it. Months or inches, miles or years. It’s all the same to me. I’ve been in Vancouver for 4 months, waiting for my measurement to be up, and to stop. I miss home. Shorten up.
Measured is my reason. But that does not mean one is logical. Reason and truth, what are they. Man is the measure of all things, so said Protagoras. My brother’s dog died today. it was killed by a bigger dog. That dog measured larger than the other, smaller dog. That is what happened. What is the measured response to such a thing? What is the reasonable response? To feel sad. To mourn.
My skills are constantly measured by different teachers and different variables. On and off the athletic field. This is what life is. A measuring. Constant measuring of who we are and what we are going to potentially be. Who wins in the end? Not me. I don’t know. I really have no idea. Life is the ultimate measurement.
I measured out my words,
that which I never did
all that I didn’t say.
In between measured breaths I collected it all up
like money tinkling into a tips jar
words fell
the ruler tapped the table, struck my knuckles
red lines grew
I am measured by the words I say every day. I am measured by the way I live my life and the way I treat those closest to me. I am measured by who I am.
I measure the days
By the red dripping tick marks
Down my arms
And the beautiful carvings
Woven into my legs
Not by your smiles
Or your scorn
She
poured the flour
and measured it,
leveled it out.
I still remember
the little things
Like the way
she gave me dolls
and kissed me goodnight.
Today I measured myself, my height, my weight. That was the literal measuring. I really measured my sadness. The way it all makes me feel. How well I feel I am doing in life. I didn’t measure up. I don’t compare. I am nothing compared to others. They measure up so well. So much potential, so much success. But me, I measure up to nothing. A sad, fat, ugly, depressed girl, alone in the world. Hidden, by the ease of saying I am fine. Hidden, by the fear of being defined by a label, being judged further. I’m measured against everything, and I don’t compare.
I measured your love in a glass too tall. And even then I found it brimming the edges; ready to spill.
Slowly, he pours sugar into his coffee, measuring the white sweetness and me with his bright blue eyes. “Death will come from this.”
Taking a deep breath, I glance at my feet before raising my gaze to his. “I know,” I say on a shaky sigh. “But. But it is the only thing I can do.”
He tilts his head to the side, inspecting me. Returning the favor, I survey his black hair with salt sprinklings that is pulled back into a loose braid; black trousers and a crisp white shirt, tucked in at the waist with one button undone; a sword swings at his hip and a dagger is hidden in his left black boot.
“There are other ways, little one,” the man speaks quietly.
“Other ways will sacrifice more lives!” I cry. Suddenly, I grow quiet. Still. Silent. “I can’t lose anyone else.
A gentle hand falls to my shoulder. I wipe the tears from my eyes.
“People don’t want to lose you either.”
measuring is what you do in science. It’s what you to do to prove you aren’t fat. measuring is a kind of poetic word I think. I measure my courage alot. It sounds sort of minical. I