I am tire of feeling this violent flux of emotions. When will it end? When am i going to finally be at peace with me as a person, the good and the bad. I keep wondering if others feel the same butits hard to gauge that when everyone tends to but on the fake emotions and faces and smiles for everyone elses benefit.I dont have the passion to change or the self discipline to stick with it
nicole
I feel violent if anyone I care about it getting hurt. My rage explodes and I can’t help but spring and lash out even if it’s not a good idea in the long term. I want to beat the shit out of people to express all the rage and pain I ever felt but I don’t want to hurt people the way I have been hurt. Who was the first one to hit? they triggered all the rage
Carrie
BOOM. What is the depth of that violent smile on your face? I know that sarcastic spit dribbling at the corners of your mouth just want to devour my ego in whole. Why do you have to be so straightforward in your analyses of my life and behaviour? Why do I still run back to you even though every word feels like the sharpest daggers inspecting my intestines?
The violent magician strode across the courtyard with a blur/gold nimbus around his head and gold fire in his finger tips. He was going to kill a black dragon who had plagued the western plains for ages,
Dean McCurley
He violently stabbed her in the neck as she cried out in pain. Just as quick as it started, she fell to the ground, lifeless.
Brinana
The upthrust of the floor was shockingly violent, and as I dived to put my head under the chair with my new student Steph, I heard Nat moan as he lurched into a wall. It was a long time before the quaking stopped and Angela came to say we much vacate the building.
Valerahahaha
She didn’t know when it had become like this, really. The years sort of blurred together in her head… Concussions and contusions hadn’t really helped to that end, either.
It was all dangerous…It was all her life. She wouldn’t change it for the world, regardless.
The waves of the ocean are violent, beating relentlessly against the helpless rocks on the shore. Each day, the rocks surrender a piece of themselves, even if it is but a grain, to the constant onslaught of salty water, suffering in silence. They continue this routine until they have been beaten into sand. The ocean is a beautiful thing…but maybe it is nothing more than a big bully.
How could someone do such a thing – the psychopath ordered a home surgery kit from the internet and used it to cut open a pregnant woman and steal her baby.
travellati
The night was violent. The darkness beat upon him, cracking and pounding. As long as the day had been, suddenly the night seemed endlessly longer.
Eleanor Schmedgen
Violent, sought, softly spoken, in the late afternoon’s violet light. Created to create, its prose was easily misdiagnosed as one to destroy. Only hoping to replace this one day, the violent had to be its namesake.
Griffin
Violent tears punch through the static feedback by screech, fist pump and foot stamp.
She had seen violence in her past, and was worried she would never escape it. When she first started dating him she kept him far away from her in order to save herself from any pain. He proved he was a man before society deemed him one. She let herself get close to him as he promised to keep her safe. He never let her down.
Kari Shadrick
It’s in my blood. It’s a pounding, beating rhythm of insatiable desire. I dance to the sound of brilliant fire. Sudden pulses like whispered melodies on flesh. My hands lay on with a gentle caress. It’s one last fix before my death.
The violent shall take Heaven by force, was the thought that kept running through his mind with every crushing blow that he delivered. It was as if his mind had gone numb to any morality that he had left.
Violent is the way I feel when I return over and over again to the same conclusion. I wish one time something would be so paramount that it changed life as I know it. Not terrorism, not the .com, not orange being the new pink. I mean something that makes life worth living. I feel alone tonight… That is all.
Violent. His hands across her face, as her own arms wrapped around her belly, protecting the child that lay within. It was his, why couldn’t he love it? Didn’t he love her? Why, oh why? She simply didn’t understand. What had she ever done? She didn’t understand why he always hit her, why he always hurt her. He covered her in bruises, only to kiss them better with time, swearing it was the last time, that he would never do it again.
This time, it would be.
Morgan Ashleigh
The colors clashed violently yet harmoniously as the sun set low over the horizon. Brilliant reds with streaks like burnished gold. Blush pink with the soft purple of twilight.
Tedzy
this word is painful. everyone is violent at times, which hurts because I thought it was all peace and universal love, but how can we do that with words like this in the world?
He had a violent urge to …. do do what? He wasn’t sure. To do something that would distract him from this moment and this situation that appalled him. Why he was here, and who had talked him into boarding this unseaworthy vessel was another story altogether …
hurtful, insane rage that has no ends of stopping itself unless love comes in the way. you cant stop it unless you believe you can.
Amanda
violence is not always physical it can be as simple as a disregard for something. something that you never even knew was important before
rachel
this site is perfect because I can’t think.
me
When I saw this word I didn’t know what to write about. I thought about my grandfather who hit my grandmother and she kept his last name. I thought about middle school boys who use fists to hide insecurities while girls use hurtful words which can be just as violent. I thought about TV and how we glorify violence to make money, which also somehow makes it ok for us to put or hands on someone else without consent. I thought about war and how it’s only ok for us to kill when a president confirms it. And that’s violence within itself, really.
The storm was violent. Thunder shook the house like an angry Greek god throwing lightning bolts at the window panes, which shook in the warped sills. The wind howled through crack in the door, which was in such poor shape because of an equally violent, drunken fight that broke out the night before. She was scared, but huddled under the desk, clutching her soft blanket and bear–both tattered and worn with love and use.
uneducated, fear, upbrining, the world, tv, brainwashing, government, unhealthy living… there is no need for anyone to violent.. get you thoughts across with your words, not your fists.. or negativity
Violent. He was violent. The blood on the planks. The innards scattered. The dead lying everywhere. The water flowing into the ship. He was violent. Than, he saw his Helen, cold, pale and tiny against the hard planks, she was even prettier in death, the hints of blue etching into her forever smiling face. Helen is what made him do it. He could not stop it. She had been poisoned. He could not take it, losing her, and he went into a violent, mad, frenzied rage, he destroyed everything. Everything he knew and loved at one time was going to sink and fade away at the bottom of the sea. He knew that.
Without a second thought, she strung up her arrow and launched it towards the judges, carefully watching as it landed just above the bald, sweaty one’s head. “Thank you for your time,” she spit out before stalking toward the elevator and away from their faces, dripping with shock.
Jane
I was runnign very fast. I dropped the cellphone. I dropped the bags. My anckle was hurting. And then I stopped and said to myself: “It’s just the subway. I’ll get the next one. Since you’re only going to the park and read”.
my love for you is as violent as a wave breaking at the shore;
caught in the undertow,
marissa caldarola
Violence is never the answer. Although sometimes, I would like to punch someone. I can be very violent. But I choose not to be. I am a kind hearted person. It scares me when I see other people getting violent. Especially with blood.
Hayley
She was violently ill, but it wasn’t a physical illness. She walked around school looking perfectly normal, well dressed with rosy cheeks, but on the inside she was dying. She looked around and realized that she wouldn’t be here much longer, not in this high school, not in this state, and eventually not in this world. It was an emotional overload that could nearly make her physically ill, and violently so, but she kept it contain, at least until she was out those double doors, until she was free.
It was a dark night when the man in the battered hat and the tan jacket was following the dame into the dimly lit bar. He pulled the gun. He knew it would be trouble. Then the gorilla in a suit jacket and velvet gloves tried to hit him. He shot twice, and watched in slow motion as the bullets ripped through his chest. He laughed to himself.
John Rundell
VIOLENCE. Such an interesting concept, eh? I remember 6th grade learning about violence and the condescending teacher asked if any of us thought violence was okay… a semi-pointless question looking back on it. Dionne said yes, violence was okay. Teacher, her long black hair hanging over her shoulders, asked Dionne why, but she couldn’t tell us in a very articulate way. I don’t know if she was being deviant and defiant or being serious and profound. I keep accidently starting this minute over, so really, I’ve been writing about violence for three minutes. I can’t help but see that as a bad sign. It reminds me of “The Storm is You.” So many things keep reminding me of that concept. Am I the violence in my life?
Kaysea
a sudden movement with calculated force
power driven by injury
seizures subsiding
behind firey eyes
Have you noticed how violent silence can be? It attacks you head on, no mercy, no regrets.
I am tire of feeling this violent flux of emotions. When will it end? When am i going to finally be at peace with me as a person, the good and the bad. I keep wondering if others feel the same butits hard to gauge that when everyone tends to but on the fake emotions and faces and smiles for everyone elses benefit.I dont have the passion to change or the self discipline to stick with it
I feel violent if anyone I care about it getting hurt. My rage explodes and I can’t help but spring and lash out even if it’s not a good idea in the long term. I want to beat the shit out of people to express all the rage and pain I ever felt but I don’t want to hurt people the way I have been hurt. Who was the first one to hit? they triggered all the rage
BOOM. What is the depth of that violent smile on your face? I know that sarcastic spit dribbling at the corners of your mouth just want to devour my ego in whole. Why do you have to be so straightforward in your analyses of my life and behaviour? Why do I still run back to you even though every word feels like the sharpest daggers inspecting my intestines?
The violent magician strode across the courtyard with a blur/gold nimbus around his head and gold fire in his finger tips. He was going to kill a black dragon who had plagued the western plains for ages,
He violently stabbed her in the neck as she cried out in pain. Just as quick as it started, she fell to the ground, lifeless.
The upthrust of the floor was shockingly violent, and as I dived to put my head under the chair with my new student Steph, I heard Nat moan as he lurched into a wall. It was a long time before the quaking stopped and Angela came to say we much vacate the building.
She didn’t know when it had become like this, really. The years sort of blurred together in her head… Concussions and contusions hadn’t really helped to that end, either.
It was all dangerous…It was all her life. She wouldn’t change it for the world, regardless.
The waves of the ocean are violent, beating relentlessly against the helpless rocks on the shore. Each day, the rocks surrender a piece of themselves, even if it is but a grain, to the constant onslaught of salty water, suffering in silence. They continue this routine until they have been beaten into sand. The ocean is a beautiful thing…but maybe it is nothing more than a big bully.
How could someone do such a thing – the psychopath ordered a home surgery kit from the internet and used it to cut open a pregnant woman and steal her baby.
The night was violent. The darkness beat upon him, cracking and pounding. As long as the day had been, suddenly the night seemed endlessly longer.
Violent, sought, softly spoken, in the late afternoon’s violet light. Created to create, its prose was easily misdiagnosed as one to destroy. Only hoping to replace this one day, the violent had to be its namesake.
Violent tears punch through the static feedback by screech, fist pump and foot stamp.
She had seen violence in her past, and was worried she would never escape it. When she first started dating him she kept him far away from her in order to save herself from any pain. He proved he was a man before society deemed him one. She let herself get close to him as he promised to keep her safe. He never let her down.
It’s in my blood. It’s a pounding, beating rhythm of insatiable desire. I dance to the sound of brilliant fire. Sudden pulses like whispered melodies on flesh. My hands lay on with a gentle caress. It’s one last fix before my death.
The City of NewYork is terrorised on the brink of civil war, the streets scream in terror as violent war machines eat the city highways.
The violent shall take Heaven by force, was the thought that kept running through his mind with every crushing blow that he delivered. It was as if his mind had gone numb to any morality that he had left.
Violent is the way I feel when I return over and over again to the same conclusion. I wish one time something would be so paramount that it changed life as I know it. Not terrorism, not the .com, not orange being the new pink. I mean something that makes life worth living. I feel alone tonight… That is all.
Violence is never the answer.
To be violent should not be sought after.
Violence should be avoided.
Violent. His hands across her face, as her own arms wrapped around her belly, protecting the child that lay within. It was his, why couldn’t he love it? Didn’t he love her? Why, oh why? She simply didn’t understand. What had she ever done? She didn’t understand why he always hit her, why he always hurt her. He covered her in bruises, only to kiss them better with time, swearing it was the last time, that he would never do it again.
This time, it would be.
The colors clashed violently yet harmoniously as the sun set low over the horizon. Brilliant reds with streaks like burnished gold. Blush pink with the soft purple of twilight.
this word is painful. everyone is violent at times, which hurts because I thought it was all peace and universal love, but how can we do that with words like this in the world?
Violence is crazy, man. As you can tell, I’m not that quick on the spot…
Violent. Bone-crunching, finger-twisting, love-making bonanza. Different loves and different violences.
A different orgasm.
He had a violent urge to …. do do what? He wasn’t sure. To do something that would distract him from this moment and this situation that appalled him. Why he was here, and who had talked him into boarding this unseaworthy vessel was another story altogether …
hurtful, insane rage that has no ends of stopping itself unless love comes in the way. you cant stop it unless you believe you can.
violence is not always physical it can be as simple as a disregard for something. something that you never even knew was important before
this site is perfect because I can’t think.
When I saw this word I didn’t know what to write about. I thought about my grandfather who hit my grandmother and she kept his last name. I thought about middle school boys who use fists to hide insecurities while girls use hurtful words which can be just as violent. I thought about TV and how we glorify violence to make money, which also somehow makes it ok for us to put or hands on someone else without consent. I thought about war and how it’s only ok for us to kill when a president confirms it. And that’s violence within itself, really.
The storm was violent. Thunder shook the house like an angry Greek god throwing lightning bolts at the window panes, which shook in the warped sills. The wind howled through crack in the door, which was in such poor shape because of an equally violent, drunken fight that broke out the night before. She was scared, but huddled under the desk, clutching her soft blanket and bear–both tattered and worn with love and use.
uneducated, fear, upbrining, the world, tv, brainwashing, government, unhealthy living… there is no need for anyone to violent.. get you thoughts across with your words, not your fists.. or negativity
Violent. He was violent. The blood on the planks. The innards scattered. The dead lying everywhere. The water flowing into the ship. He was violent. Than, he saw his Helen, cold, pale and tiny against the hard planks, she was even prettier in death, the hints of blue etching into her forever smiling face. Helen is what made him do it. He could not stop it. She had been poisoned. He could not take it, losing her, and he went into a violent, mad, frenzied rage, he destroyed everything. Everything he knew and loved at one time was going to sink and fade away at the bottom of the sea. He knew that.
Without a second thought, she strung up her arrow and launched it towards the judges, carefully watching as it landed just above the bald, sweaty one’s head. “Thank you for your time,” she spit out before stalking toward the elevator and away from their faces, dripping with shock.
I was runnign very fast. I dropped the cellphone. I dropped the bags. My anckle was hurting. And then I stopped and said to myself: “It’s just the subway. I’ll get the next one. Since you’re only going to the park and read”.
my love for you is as violent as a wave breaking at the shore;
caught in the undertow,
Violence is never the answer. Although sometimes, I would like to punch someone. I can be very violent. But I choose not to be. I am a kind hearted person. It scares me when I see other people getting violent. Especially with blood.
She was violently ill, but it wasn’t a physical illness. She walked around school looking perfectly normal, well dressed with rosy cheeks, but on the inside she was dying. She looked around and realized that she wouldn’t be here much longer, not in this high school, not in this state, and eventually not in this world. It was an emotional overload that could nearly make her physically ill, and violently so, but she kept it contain, at least until she was out those double doors, until she was free.
It was a dark night when the man in the battered hat and the tan jacket was following the dame into the dimly lit bar. He pulled the gun. He knew it would be trouble. Then the gorilla in a suit jacket and velvet gloves tried to hit him. He shot twice, and watched in slow motion as the bullets ripped through his chest. He laughed to himself.
VIOLENCE. Such an interesting concept, eh? I remember 6th grade learning about violence and the condescending teacher asked if any of us thought violence was okay… a semi-pointless question looking back on it. Dionne said yes, violence was okay. Teacher, her long black hair hanging over her shoulders, asked Dionne why, but she couldn’t tell us in a very articulate way. I don’t know if she was being deviant and defiant or being serious and profound. I keep accidently starting this minute over, so really, I’ve been writing about violence for three minutes. I can’t help but see that as a bad sign. It reminds me of “The Storm is You.” So many things keep reminding me of that concept. Am I the violence in my life?
a sudden movement with calculated force
power driven by injury
seizures subsiding
behind firey eyes