Thrown

I’m just throwing this out there.

You’re a stone’s throw
from throwing it all away.

I’m trying to throw you a lifeline—
throw you a bone.
I don’t want to throw cold water on your plans,
or throw a wrench in things.
I’m not trying to throw shade.
I know you’re in the throes of it, but you’re throwing me a curveball,
and it throws me for a loop.
Now I’m thrown off-balance.

I see your lips moving when you throw your voice.

You gotta know how to throw a punch—
throw your weight around.
Throw down the gauntlet!
Throw caution to the wind!
Throw your hat into the ring!

Throw yourself into the fire. Into something. Then…
throw down until you throw up.

This isn’t a throwback to when you could just
throw something on,
throw something together,
throw ideas at the wall until something sticks,
and throw one over the fence.

This isn’t something you can throw money at.
You’d be throwing it out the window.
You don’t want to throw good money after bad, do you?

Don’t throw a fit.
Don’t throw yourself a pity party.
Even if you don’t trust someone as far as you can throw them,
don’t throw mud,
don’t throw the book at them,
don’t throw them to the wolves,
don’t throw them under the bus.

Don’t throw stones in glass houses.
Don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater.

Because you’ll throw out your back,
throw out your arm,
throw up your hands,
then throw in your hand—
and before you know it, you’ll have to throw in the towel.

I don’t want to see you throw it all away.

I’m just throwing this out there.
Feel free to throw it right back.