The very pits of the earth. Thats what this place was. The pits of shadows, where one would fall at the end of their time. Their tears and their blood mixed within the grime of the pit. This place where we all go to eventually. The place where one falls until no longer is there a bottom.
Sebastian
there are many issues which make you unhappy ……being unhappy is the pits. the pit is the depth and the unhappiness is at times the depth
anne gleeson
It stood, yawning at her feet, wide and deep and dark, this pit dug into the earth. It was scarred and jagged and rushed, not precisely cut like they would have been Before. It was just long and just wide enough for one body, wrapped in cloth and set beside the pit so carefully, so delicately, even though that body was dead. What would he care, she thought bitterly. It was laid there, covered in a way that didn’t cover enough to let her forget even a small detail of the blood and the screams and the rivers welling up from the great pits torn into his skin… the hopelessness in his eyes when he realized what it meant… the bump in the centre of the shroud’s forehead that insured he wouldn’t revive to bite them as he’d been bitten…
It was surrounded by candles that were never lit in some sort of mockery of what a funeral would have been Before. It felt like some sort of joke, some sort of great punchline in this great comedy and before she could stop herself, laughter bubbled forth from the pit of her stomach and spilled out into the yawning black wet-earth pit. It broke and shattered into sobs and the pieces fell before her, fell with her to her knees in the damp grass. No-one touched her, no one tried to console her, no one would dare, not these days, not since Before, before this sort of thing was common. They moved around her to lower the shrouded body into the pit, and she watched it disappear, inch by mottled red-white inch, into the pit in the earth, to lie at the bottom. Suddenly six feet felt both like catacombs of forever down which she could never ever run, and far too shallow a muddy pit for this.
arm pits are just the dirtiest place on your body. almost as dirty as the mind, or my mind at least. I’m the worst person i know, but i’m a work in progress. i think we’re all evil at heart and theres nothing we can do about it.
seth prinz
the floor of this hell boils and bubbles over relentlessly as if its constant churning will somehow lead to a divine grace saving its occupants from its torments and tortures, but there is no escape.
falling down from the road into the sewage and meeting rats inside it.They are finally having someone whome they can kiss and lick.badly badly covered with mud and dirt.
Pits reminds me of a girl I once knew. Her name was K***** Pitt. I called her KP for short. She told me she was related to Brad Pitt, I never believed her. Her initials are the same as Kim Possible, yay! The sky is blue, my thoughts are red.
Zoe
Dang, I think of armpits. EW.
mrprose
Death. Life all ends with death and the pits of the grave does no harm at every man’s intents and purpose. Life lives on as the memory of the fallen dies not on the memory left on by the legacy and the beauty of it all has it all worth it
i really don’t know what does it mean, have to consult dictionary but don’t have enough time to look and write on it, so i am not looking the for the word just going and writing whatever comes
dharaa
The pit in my stomach, like a large dark hole of anxiety. It consumes me at times but tonight I feel pleasant comfort from the music within my ears. The pit is no longer empty but a void that is temporarily filled. Soothing to think there is relief from the darkness of my imagination and anxious ways.
Carefully now, I untangled myself from the coarse black sea grass. It sprouted everywhere around me on the rocky cliffside; sharp enough to cut skin and dense enough to conceal pits and adders.
I could feel the sweat pooling in my pits. I know that’s not a very graceful way to describe stepping up onto that stage but being in those heels and that stupid black dress made me sweat. I felt like I was lying. I have these curves and these hips and these breasts but I’m not a woman. I never was.
Pits are big holes when I think of pits I think of a big black hole. Perhaps with spikes at the bottom. I also think of bottomless pits which to me are pretty cool. Armpits are another type of pit. Firepit. A pit with scorching fire.
Robin
The pits of summer, despite their reputation, were delicious. It was almost sinful. Abraham spent hours plucking apricots from the trees, plucking pits out. Alright, he didn’t actually eat the pits, but spread the sweet juice they held together on his lips and face and arms and shoulders and yes, even armpits.
Rebecca
And of course I get one of the worst words.. Pits. The word I got was pits. Ah well, let’s see..
Maybe it’s talking about the pits of fruit or vegetables?
Or it’s talking about arm pits. Those filthy things. You’ve got to shave them. You’ve got to wash them. Ugh. Pits..
Chloe
depths awesome fowl depths unreachable unfathomable before the high never before
allison
She threw in her keys. The pits; a place to put everything that was important. She tossed in her wallet and her phone. She was left with nothing but the clothes on her back and the sky over her head. She looked at the man standing in front of her. She gave the look of despair and he shrugged his shoulders and led her in through the door.
Paige
The pits of hell were all around me. Boring students, mindlessly reading page of unknown knowledge in their cramped desks, in the quiet, quiet room. How did they do it? Sitting there all day like a specimen to be studied; like a rat in a cage. I would die, like a caged bird longing to be free if I were to spend my time here.
Emily
I trust her because she can pits safely if I shared somethings
Soshi z
A hot summer’s day, in the shade, under the tree. Eating cherries. The cherries are sour and hardly ripe, and leave stains on my lips. But I eat them all, and spit out the pits in the grass.
Maria
Cherry pits, apricot pits, arm pits, peach pits, pits of doom, pit of despair, pit of my stomach, Caroline Pitts, hairy and smelly, I need to shave my arm pits, I really hope I wore deodorant today, Pity, Pitiful, do those words really count?
Serena
at first i read ‘piss’
hahahahahahaha
‘piss’
hahahahaha
goaths
I open my eyes and see blackness. there is little light comming in and from i see i don’t like. i look around to a small crappy froom filled with nothing but the blanket i slept on and the scattered bottles and empty needles. i look beside me as some strange blonde gets up and takes the remaining cash from my wallet slips her clothes on and leave. i want to cry but i am beyond that i look around in hopes of a few drops but nothings left. nothing. i have really reached the pits now…
Her lips moved as the sea at sunset, with a beauty and randomness of waves clapping down upon her face. Whenever they parted, a dark cavern awoke to accept another dripping olive. I wonder, as I look back upon that moment now, whether she had swallowed them or not, for I remember specifically that she did not spit once in the entire duration of our meeting.
sad pit. empty pit. sad. sad. im just so damn sad tonight. pits are gross. peaches have pits.
this music is sad. sad. sad. in a big pit of sadness. boys are mean.
armpits, they’re horrible, all they do is smell and sprout hair. Why do they even exist? It doesn’t make sense. And why are girls judged if they have hair there, but it’s perfectly normal for a guy to have hair there. It’s not fair at all.
When you reach the absolute bottom, and it’s not the most pleasant. Sure, thank about sweat. It’s ironic, the place on your body that show’s you’re working hard is also synonymous with the name of utter failure. Good one society.
Laziness will keep you from risking life in the pits. Remember that.
Twill
It wasn’t a peach pit. It was an armpit. People often got them confused. they were both very commin things. maybe people would rather armpits to smell like peach pits.
amanda
The pit of my stomach is wrenching. I’ll admit it – I think I may know why. I’ve eaten bowl upon bowl of oyster stew, knowing that oysters have been making me a tid-bit ill these days, but I just couldn’t resist, and now there’s this miserable feeling in the pit of my stomach. That’s a strange word – pits. It makes me think of the pit of your stomach, and, well, arm-pits.
And when I miss him, I only miss the memories. Like that one time we went to the movies and he gave me the money to pay for his ticket. I made a joke about it looking like we were dating. And it always felt like, in some third dimension, we were. Even when they talked about him under their breath, I knew he was mine, in a secret world that only we lived in. We were more than best friends, but we would never be anything more than that one January night that we kissed by accident. And a year later, I stare at the pictures and wonder where the boy went that I knew. The one that didn’t cheat on his girlfriend and smoke weed and date my old best friend. Where did he go? Somewhere in the pits of despair, he stares up and looks for a hand to take hold of. But I’m afraid it’s too late for him, my old love that I never did worry about loving in a way that would break us apart. The caring took care of that. I cared too much for the both of us, and he cared too little for even himself. But life goes on, and he passes from my eyes like a wisp of smoke that awakened me for just the smallest of moments.
The pits are when you’ve fallen so far that you can’t pull yourself out of them. It happens a lot to people with ptsd, they call it depression. But I don’t like to say that I’m depressed. I’ve just fallen in the pits. The greatest part, though, and this isn’t sarcasm, is that I have someone who can pull me out, if I’ll let her. She’s saved me more times than I could say.
Matt
arm pits. the pits of grapes. the firey pits of hell. pity pity ian for being so silly. pity liza for being so funny. smoke this bowl? pity I can’t because I’m writing. pity pity pit pit. cough cough I’m a lightweight.
Karli
Pits. The pits of hearts or the pits of our souls all the way down to the pit of a peach. Its where everything begins and ends.
Roxxiee
there are so many pits, we all fall in it, each time we fall we learn many things as possible. pits are always our teachers not our demands.
GO
The pits.
The crevices, the grime.
The sweat. The heat.
The pits are much like the rest of the world.
Irrelevant.
The very pits of the earth. Thats what this place was. The pits of shadows, where one would fall at the end of their time. Their tears and their blood mixed within the grime of the pit. This place where we all go to eventually. The place where one falls until no longer is there a bottom.
there are many issues which make you unhappy ……being unhappy is the pits. the pit is the depth and the unhappiness is at times the depth
It stood, yawning at her feet, wide and deep and dark, this pit dug into the earth. It was scarred and jagged and rushed, not precisely cut like they would have been Before. It was just long and just wide enough for one body, wrapped in cloth and set beside the pit so carefully, so delicately, even though that body was dead. What would he care, she thought bitterly. It was laid there, covered in a way that didn’t cover enough to let her forget even a small detail of the blood and the screams and the rivers welling up from the great pits torn into his skin… the hopelessness in his eyes when he realized what it meant… the bump in the centre of the shroud’s forehead that insured he wouldn’t revive to bite them as he’d been bitten…
It was surrounded by candles that were never lit in some sort of mockery of what a funeral would have been Before. It felt like some sort of joke, some sort of great punchline in this great comedy and before she could stop herself, laughter bubbled forth from the pit of her stomach and spilled out into the yawning black wet-earth pit. It broke and shattered into sobs and the pieces fell before her, fell with her to her knees in the damp grass. No-one touched her, no one tried to console her, no one would dare, not these days, not since Before, before this sort of thing was common. They moved around her to lower the shrouded body into the pit, and she watched it disappear, inch by mottled red-white inch, into the pit in the earth, to lie at the bottom. Suddenly six feet felt both like catacombs of forever down which she could never ever run, and far too shallow a muddy pit for this.
arm pits are just the dirtiest place on your body. almost as dirty as the mind, or my mind at least. I’m the worst person i know, but i’m a work in progress. i think we’re all evil at heart and theres nothing we can do about it.
the floor of this hell boils and bubbles over relentlessly as if its constant churning will somehow lead to a divine grace saving its occupants from its torments and tortures, but there is no escape.
falling down from the road into the sewage and meeting rats inside it.They are finally having someone whome they can kiss and lick.badly badly covered with mud and dirt.
pits stops. road trips i don’t really know sigh……
sdfkjsdfkljfdls sdfkjsdfklsdfjsklfs
Pits reminds me of a girl I once knew. Her name was K***** Pitt. I called her KP for short. She told me she was related to Brad Pitt, I never believed her. Her initials are the same as Kim Possible, yay! The sky is blue, my thoughts are red.
Dang, I think of armpits. EW.
Death. Life all ends with death and the pits of the grave does no harm at every man’s intents and purpose. Life lives on as the memory of the fallen dies not on the memory left on by the legacy and the beauty of it all has it all worth it
i really don’t know what does it mean, have to consult dictionary but don’t have enough time to look and write on it, so i am not looking the for the word just going and writing whatever comes
The pit in my stomach, like a large dark hole of anxiety. It consumes me at times but tonight I feel pleasant comfort from the music within my ears. The pit is no longer empty but a void that is temporarily filled. Soothing to think there is relief from the darkness of my imagination and anxious ways.
Carefully now, I untangled myself from the coarse black sea grass. It sprouted everywhere around me on the rocky cliffside; sharp enough to cut skin and dense enough to conceal pits and adders.
I could feel the sweat pooling in my pits. I know that’s not a very graceful way to describe stepping up onto that stage but being in those heels and that stupid black dress made me sweat. I felt like I was lying. I have these curves and these hips and these breasts but I’m not a woman. I never was.
Pits are big holes when I think of pits I think of a big black hole. Perhaps with spikes at the bottom. I also think of bottomless pits which to me are pretty cool. Armpits are another type of pit. Firepit. A pit with scorching fire.
The pits of summer, despite their reputation, were delicious. It was almost sinful. Abraham spent hours plucking apricots from the trees, plucking pits out. Alright, he didn’t actually eat the pits, but spread the sweet juice they held together on his lips and face and arms and shoulders and yes, even armpits.
And of course I get one of the worst words.. Pits. The word I got was pits. Ah well, let’s see..
Maybe it’s talking about the pits of fruit or vegetables?
Or it’s talking about arm pits. Those filthy things. You’ve got to shave them. You’ve got to wash them. Ugh. Pits..
depths awesome fowl depths unreachable unfathomable before the high never before
She threw in her keys. The pits; a place to put everything that was important. She tossed in her wallet and her phone. She was left with nothing but the clothes on her back and the sky over her head. She looked at the man standing in front of her. She gave the look of despair and he shrugged his shoulders and led her in through the door.
The pits of hell were all around me. Boring students, mindlessly reading page of unknown knowledge in their cramped desks, in the quiet, quiet room. How did they do it? Sitting there all day like a specimen to be studied; like a rat in a cage. I would die, like a caged bird longing to be free if I were to spend my time here.
I trust her because she can pits safely if I shared somethings
A hot summer’s day, in the shade, under the tree. Eating cherries. The cherries are sour and hardly ripe, and leave stains on my lips. But I eat them all, and spit out the pits in the grass.
Cherry pits, apricot pits, arm pits, peach pits, pits of doom, pit of despair, pit of my stomach, Caroline Pitts, hairy and smelly, I need to shave my arm pits, I really hope I wore deodorant today, Pity, Pitiful, do those words really count?
at first i read ‘piss’
hahahahahahaha
‘piss’
hahahahaha
I open my eyes and see blackness. there is little light comming in and from i see i don’t like. i look around to a small crappy froom filled with nothing but the blanket i slept on and the scattered bottles and empty needles. i look beside me as some strange blonde gets up and takes the remaining cash from my wallet slips her clothes on and leave. i want to cry but i am beyond that i look around in hopes of a few drops but nothings left. nothing. i have really reached the pits now…
Her lips moved as the sea at sunset, with a beauty and randomness of waves clapping down upon her face. Whenever they parted, a dark cavern awoke to accept another dripping olive. I wonder, as I look back upon that moment now, whether she had swallowed them or not, for I remember specifically that she did not spit once in the entire duration of our meeting.
sad pit. empty pit. sad. sad. im just so damn sad tonight. pits are gross. peaches have pits.
this music is sad. sad. sad. in a big pit of sadness. boys are mean.
armpits, they’re horrible, all they do is smell and sprout hair. Why do they even exist? It doesn’t make sense. And why are girls judged if they have hair there, but it’s perfectly normal for a guy to have hair there. It’s not fair at all.
When you reach the absolute bottom, and it’s not the most pleasant. Sure, thank about sweat. It’s ironic, the place on your body that show’s you’re working hard is also synonymous with the name of utter failure. Good one society.
Laziness will keep you from risking life in the pits. Remember that.
It wasn’t a peach pit. It was an armpit. People often got them confused. they were both very commin things. maybe people would rather armpits to smell like peach pits.
The pit of my stomach is wrenching. I’ll admit it – I think I may know why. I’ve eaten bowl upon bowl of oyster stew, knowing that oysters have been making me a tid-bit ill these days, but I just couldn’t resist, and now there’s this miserable feeling in the pit of my stomach. That’s a strange word – pits. It makes me think of the pit of your stomach, and, well, arm-pits.
And when I miss him, I only miss the memories. Like that one time we went to the movies and he gave me the money to pay for his ticket. I made a joke about it looking like we were dating. And it always felt like, in some third dimension, we were. Even when they talked about him under their breath, I knew he was mine, in a secret world that only we lived in. We were more than best friends, but we would never be anything more than that one January night that we kissed by accident. And a year later, I stare at the pictures and wonder where the boy went that I knew. The one that didn’t cheat on his girlfriend and smoke weed and date my old best friend. Where did he go? Somewhere in the pits of despair, he stares up and looks for a hand to take hold of. But I’m afraid it’s too late for him, my old love that I never did worry about loving in a way that would break us apart. The caring took care of that. I cared too much for the both of us, and he cared too little for even himself. But life goes on, and he passes from my eyes like a wisp of smoke that awakened me for just the smallest of moments.
Down in the pits is where I am today. And why?
Too much time to think, not enough to do.
No more pits.
The pits.
The pits of despair.
Rock bottom.
Hit rock bottom head first.
New day.
Light on the horizon,symbolizing hope.
The pits are when you’ve fallen so far that you can’t pull yourself out of them. It happens a lot to people with ptsd, they call it depression. But I don’t like to say that I’m depressed. I’ve just fallen in the pits. The greatest part, though, and this isn’t sarcasm, is that I have someone who can pull me out, if I’ll let her. She’s saved me more times than I could say.
arm pits. the pits of grapes. the firey pits of hell. pity pity ian for being so silly. pity liza for being so funny. smoke this bowl? pity I can’t because I’m writing. pity pity pit pit. cough cough I’m a lightweight.
Pits. The pits of hearts or the pits of our souls all the way down to the pit of a peach. Its where everything begins and ends.
there are so many pits, we all fall in it, each time we fall we learn many things as possible. pits are always our teachers not our demands.