Don T Let Me Down Figurative Language

My mind was going one thousand miles per hour, those words haunting my head. Hot tears flowed down my face as the words sunk in. I slumped in my seat feeling exhausted and too cold for this warm house. My father’s arms reached for me, trying to comfort me. He wouldn’t understand the mental loss that was turning into physical pain. My chest heaved for air, trying to get this drowning feeling out of these thoughts that envelope me bringing a soft cloak of anxiety. “Not again, please.”

I hold the paper in my hands. It’s crumpling under my grip, but in it I get to live in the footsteps of others. My old dress is wrinkled and torn much like the paper, but I can’t spare the money on a new one. As much as I try to focus on the crinkled piece of paper with scrawly handwriting, I can’t. I just can’t. Tears run down my face and I wipe them away. It has been awhile since I have cried, so long in fact that I was afraid that there was something wrong with me. I push myself up from the old oak I sit at the base of. There’s no use in dwelling in what I can’t change. I fold the paper back in my dress pocket and walk into the field. I used to think there was beauty in the way that the grass grows in the street; standing low next to the

The most powerful scene is when John is in the library imitating his household. In this scene you finally understand why he acts the way he does. John is a classic “bad boy”. His constant antagonizing is part of his act to keep people at an emotional distance. John alternates between wisecracking and indulging his genuine anger, digging into his messed-up family life. Before this scene you just see him as a boy who does everything for attention, tries to act cool all the time and does not care about anyone but himself (Hughes).

September 15 was a day I won’t forget I was scared for my friend Donavin he was 13 and had to get surgery on his neck, he had a 50% of making it through the surgery. I sat in the waiting room for what seemed like days, I ended up sleeping on the floor of the waiting room to get good or bad news. It was 5:00 pm when the nurse can in I got out of my seat as my sister held my hand tight. “He made it through the surgery would you like to see him” the nurse said. Without saying anything to the nurse, I ran to the room and opened the door with tears, my eyes waiting to see his face. I walked over and saw him sleeping, I layed next to him and hugged him like I have not seen him in forever, I was glad to see him doing well. By wanting to stay with a friend in the hospital, I was showing that I cared for that person. The characters of Sandra from “Geraldo no last name” and Liesel from the book thief showed that they care about people they don’t know.

David Bowie sings, “Don’t let me stay, don’t let me stay” (17) The narrator is pleading for help. He is pleading that someone will save him from his own horrible problems. The narrator was promised to be saved from the war and he is pleading out for that promise to be granted. He is living in a nightmare that will not end. Tracy K. Smith reiterated what she remembers from her session when she says, “Is a human hand reaching down to lift/ A pebble from my tongue” (24-25). She is wondering if her therapist has helped her through the rough time that she is having. She wants to be saved from the discomfort she feels. She does not want to be heartbroken anymore. She wants to be put out of her misery of being forced to sit there expressing the way she feels. They both want to be saved from their own skeletons in the

It was a weekday in September when I came home from school, said goodbye to my family and didn’t come back for two weeks, but that was the first time, in all I was gone for a month and a half. Abington Memorial Hospital was welcoming, but it didn’t matter how distracted I was, I couldn’t escape myself. “Life begins where fear ends”, but it was a different story for me, when the fear of myself stopped, that would be because I would’ve done what I was terrified of and what I wanted the most, to let the rain

I've been here three days, and every morning this has happened, I'm forced to remember my mother's death and all the feelings that had come with it, all over again. "Yeah, um, it is." I tell her. A warm tear falls slowly down my freckled cheek, hits my lips and spreads across my mouth. I'm so tired of her persistent nagging, that perhaps I'll leave the house today. I could go on a walk or something,

The author uses figurative language to describe to the reader how the characters are feeling, by giving multiple actions and examples in the author’s writing. “A final, soaking farewell was let go of, and they turned and left the cemetery, looking back several times.” (Page 24.) This evidence supports my answer by giving a setting of the “soaking farewell,” showing how gloomy it was and the passage describe how Liesel didn’t want to let go of her brother.

AJR’s song “Weak”,addresses the struggles of battling temptations and coming to terms with them. The song portrays a young man fighting to gain control over his habits, but inability giving in, convincing himself there's nothing wrong with being weak. Consequently the speaker begins to associate love and joy to submitting to his temptations. “Weak” makes use of many types of figurative language to convey this theme of giving in to temptations.

The morning wind is as cold as ice, slicing passed my skin while I’m standing against it. It always like today of every year: cloudy, cold and sad. Like the sky is crying with me. I blend down to a tall, sleek, marble stone with the name “Amelia Bennett” written on it. That’s my mother’s name. She died when I was 7 year-old, it’s odd that I have the memories of her very clearly in my brain. Most children probably won’t. But I do, and I when I do, I missed her. I don’t even know what happened on that tragic day. I was blacked out and the next thing I remember is that she’s now laying deep underneath my feet. No one knows what happen, or no one wants to talk about it, not even my aunt. She’s the one that take me in after the accident. Why? Because

Today was funeral day. My mom’s funeral. It was a dark October thursday, the clouds were brewing a storm. A slight breeze disturbed my neck. My uncomfortable suit sleeves bellowed in the cold breeze.. I hadn’t felt any emotions since the day of her death, which was weeks ago, almost as if my emotion is grey. It was warm then, as my mind was too. Nowadays, up until today, my mind has been a dark fog, as if my mind was released into the sky, darkening everyone’s day, arriving at my mom’s funeral or just to cuddle up with their friends and family in front of a warm crackling fire, telling the stories of their childhood and how times were better. Not me, my dad usually ignored me and he only worked on managing my mom’s fortune. Yeah. My mom’s

However, tonight was slightly different there was a feeling of emptiness within me that only jasper could fill, but he was know where to be seen. As I walked towards the smooth grey eucalyptus that presided over the small dam on the far side, I peered into the broad hallow space at its base where I knew Jasper stayed. But there was no sign of jasper or even the slightest amount of evidence that he had been here. I felt my body shatter for what felt like the millionth time tonight as the tears started to fall down my cheeks, I didn’t know how much more I could take before I simply couldn’t handle this anymore. As I sat slumped along the water’s edge with my head on my knees, I felt betrayed and heartbroken. Jasper Jones was really gone, he had left me and gone to the city by himself, a plan that we were meant to do together. I was distressed, filled with anger and heartbreak. He had broken his promise. But the truth is what hurt me the most, I thought he loved me, I thought what we had was real, but I was wrong. Tonight was going to be the night I tell him everything, the night I was going to beg him to leave with me. Because I was in trouble. I couldn’t do this alone. I needed him more than ever but he wasn’t there. As these thoughts kept running through my head I begin to write it down. One way or another

I remember the day just like it was yesterday, the pale color and coldness of her skin. The sky was clear blue, soft, with a touch of red, and the trees seemed stiff in their bright green shade. The wind was blowing with its humid dry air. And All I could do was stand silently in disbelief, caught up in my own thoughts and calm as I ever been. Wondering what I could have done differently to change the course of time, life had taken us upon. Since that very day a chunk of my heart was ripped away, and broken into pieces… “Oh how I miss her so much.”

Every day since I’ve been jobless I would go out to Central Park and go on a walk and just take in how great life is even when I’m hitting rock bottom. As I was walking down central park there was a boy on a bench with a guitar and having the time of his life. It reminded me of when I used to sing and write songs. (Put something like of course, in front of this for transition) I could tell that they weren't his songs because they were from the top one hundred. He was bringing people up with him to sing. No matter if they were good or bad they sung their hearts out and were having the time of their lives. He pointed to me and took my hand, I step up on the bench and everything was happening in slow motion. He started strumming a few chords and

In this research, the researcher discusses the figurative language based on Perrine’s perception. According to Perrine (1977:61-109), figurative language consists of 12 kinds, they are: simile, metaphor, personification, apostrophe, synecdoche, metonymy, symbol, allegory, paradox, hyperbole/overstatement, understatement, and irony.