Wind

It rustles the leaves and messes up my hair.
You can't see it, sometimes it's impossible to know it's there.
And I envy it, when it comes along.
So sweet the wind, it come along, singing it's mellow song.
Oh but sometimes it howls, and I wonder what causes it such pain.
It rips through the day and chills the night.
Wind is my friend, one with whom I can relate.
It's as though it's singing me my fate.

I could stand out side on a day like to day,
and I would just sit there hoping that the wind would whisk me away.
I dream about where it could take me,
Sometimes the wind is the only one that knows me.

It gives me power and thoughts,
things i can't think about unless it's there.
It makes me feel free,
however sometimes it makes me feel tiny and pathetic,
oh so small.
But there is no way
to make the wind go away.

And on a day like today,
I feel like it knows me.
It's pushing the leaves, ever so softly.
Today Wind brought his friends:
Clouds and Cold.
A mighty fine trio they are, indeed.
They make me think about all the things
the things I'd rather not think of,
but wind knows that sometimes these things can't be left alone.

I thank the wind for carrying me.
And for dropping me so hard.
Somet

Failure.

Well there goes my math test.
Failed.
I couldn't even answer the first question correctly. Not sure where exactly my mind is today. I mean I had it all down last night when I was studying, but now, it's all gone. How can all that information just, disappear. Well my mother is going to be not so pleasantly surprised when she sees that grade on Infinite Campus. And then she's going to see the AP Gov. test grade, which I'm sure to fail later.
With your feet in the air and your head on the ground, try this trick, spin it. Yeah.
Thank you Sucker Punch for putting that lovely little line in my head. Try to be happy. Maybe I just should't worry about it, no matter how much it needs be worried about. At four o'clock today I will be out of school until next Monday. I'm going to have fun with my friends these next few days, Thursday I'm going to have a lovely Thanksgiving with my family. No stress, Baylee, just don't stress over it.

To tell of Joy?

Joy is a moment frozen forever in time.
It's those days or moments that you feel invincible. Those milliseconds when you aren't afraid.
He is joy. Whoever he shall be, is always joy to me. And I find it sad, that I depend so much upon finding that joy, that it's what joy has taken on the form of.
It's a smile back when you look at him, your heart almost leaps.
It's making eye contact with him, while trying to figure out why he thinks the things he thinks.
It's holding a conversation, 'cause we all know how bad I am at those.
But joy only exist in fragments.

Well all know that joy is..
"false hope".
False hope: this word so many seem to believe in. Everything is false hope. Where is hard work and courage. Well aren't you one to talk mister.
It doesn't last any longer than we let ourselves believe in the power we have, in ourselves. Joy is only for the beautiful and strong.
My strength, I grasp at it, and sometimes it's gone. But beauty is something, I've never quite known. I've always been too much. Ya know. Literally and figuratively. Obviously Joy is not meant for me.

Maybe I knew it once,
in that time when beauty didn't matter and strength was just a test of who could kick harder. When he was my world and everything I was aiming for. But now I don't even know him, he;s nothing but the thunder drumming distantly through the clouds. Can it be that it's been that long since I've felt utter joy? Did he steal the joy I had in that final hug, or did I just allow it to latch on to him, and never bothered trying to get it back? I'm sure by now he's spent my joy. These days I don't feel helpless at the thought of him, I don't honestly care anymore for him. But if I actually saw him, and sat down to talk to him...let's just hope that never happens. [I think Miranda's going through her Thunder right now, but she can;t steal the song, it'll alwats be mine. He will always be my thunder.] The only way for joy to come back to me is if some kind person, with a good soul were to lend me some of there's, and with that I'd know they truly care. I wonder if, anyone will ever see past all this, who I am and how I look. Right now I'm lost, anyone care to find me?

Joy, joy joy,. Why does it seem I can only find joy in the form of a boy? Am I that pathetic?

Love,
Baylee Jean

His Rose

He gave me a rose,

a tribute of his fame

for a fan I am,

simply because I came.

I put the rose in a vase

placed it on the table,

so that everyone could see

what he had given me.

The night had been something,

but I had been through it before.

He preformed like a star, 

and I admired his talent from afar.

I was like everyone else,

meant to sit back and watch him--

and wait.

At the end of the show,

when finally we could speak,

many admirers surrounded him already

but I was used to it:

his ego and fame.

It was a part of him,

and made him happy.

That's what really mattered to me.

I got my hug,

and a hello.

I let him know that he was the star of the show.

He had me follow him

as he thanked them all for coming,

I stood back and watched him

I felt like I was drowning.

Finally, I had him

as much to myself as it would be.

He'd given four others the flower,

and I wonder if he felt obligated to give one to me.

But when he got down on his knee

I wondered if maybe he really did care about me.

I don't mean like love or lust,

I'm fairly certain those feelings are above us.

But a brother and sister bond I can understand,

or maybe even that crush I had upon him,

still had some strength,

and maybe he was just showing what a gentleman he can be.

Whatever the reason,

the reason he felt that he

needed to drop down upon one knee

and ask for my hand

is above me.

'Baylee, would you take this flower

to have and to hold,

until it dies.'

He knew how to flatter me,

to make my face turn red,

almost four years he's been playing with my head.

I accepted his gift

with a smile too real to pretend it was fake.

I couldn't help but to instinctively smell it,

so sweet and strong.

The night had to come to an end,

so he hugged the other girl,

then looked at me.

'I saved you for last,

so that it'd be more special'

I wondered if he meant it,

or if he'd say that to any girl had to hug last.

But I hugged him tight,

wrapped my arms around him,

one of the better hugs I've given.

I savored it,

I wouldn't have let go if I didn't have to,

I'd miss him when he was gone,

I always do.

He plucked the hat off my head,

and told us farewell.

Now the rose sits on my table,

in a vase,

for me to see just in case

I forget,

where happiness lies.

But I know,

that the flower will die.

In no time at all, it will lay wilted before me.

As my spirit falls with it,

because I know he'll soon forget me.