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.

Am I Okay?- Poem

People have begun to notice,

they see something different,

something wrong.

They ask me,

'what's wrong'

What's wrong?

You ask like you really care,

like what I say will make some sort of change.

Life you're going to try to help.

So I say,

'nothing, nothing at all'

You proceed on,

you ask and ask,

what's wrong, wrong, wrong!

All I want now is you,

gone.

It doesn't matter what's wrong,

all that should matter is something is,

is very wrong.

Does it matter what the problem is?

Something is wrong.

But I don't tell you that,

'I'm tired, that's all'

Tired. Tired.

I slept like a baby last night,

no way in hell

that I'm 'tired'.

And at that point you say

'okay, if you're sure.'

and I nod,

I nod because I know,

I know that if I told you-

if I told you:

If I told you that I'm angry,

mad at the world and the way that we have chosen

to work our earth like another steel-piped wired machine.

If I told you that I'm ashamed,

upset with the decisions I've mad and regretting

the things I didn't have the courage to do.

If I told you that I'm scared,

deathly afraid of losing everyone I love

and having them give up on me because-

I'm not good enough.

If I told you I'm confused,

so much to the point that I don't know who I am anymore;

You wouldn't say a thing.

Or worse,

you'd look at me like I'm crazy,

like I'm too far gone.

You'd put your hands up in surrender,

'well jeez, who knew life sucked so bad.'

As you walked away,

you're thoughts hateful toward me.

Because I know,

you want to hear:

“I'm doing just swell!

I'm beautiful and proud.

I know my dreams are coming true,

and I'm happy.

Glad I could spend this moment with you.

I believe in fairy tales.

My grades are great and I'm gonna make it

far.

The Lord is my god and I know

he's got a place in heaven saved for me.”

But I can't say it.

I can't say it because I know,

I will never look like the models

on tv.

He will never love me.

So, I can't say that I'm beautiful.

My temper is awful,

and I bite at the souls

of those I love.

How could I dare be proud?

I feel like I'm trapped

doing the same thing day after day.

I don't even know what my dreams are anymore.

The prince rode off a long time ago,

leaving me in the cold:

scared and shy.

Fairytales are a lie.

I couldn't get my grade up in A.P. Gov.

if I gave my last breath for it.

Getting a C is average,

I guess it fits.

I know they're all better than I.

Am I going to make it out of high school alive?

I pray and hope,

I feel God there,

but I wonder

if He really cares about the teenage girl

praying with all her might that her kitty cat will just make it through the night.

I never know what to say.

If I'm positive then I'm lying.

If I'm negative, I'll scare you away.

So please stop asking,

“Are you okay?”

Bored.. Duh.

 I'm writing this in A.P. Government right now...

I honestly don't want to be here. Yesterday my mom allowed me to skip school for absolutely no reason. Yeah, yesterday was amazing. I tried it again today, but I knew it wouldn't work. It almost did though. She things that there's something wrong. Like, really wrong. Worrying my mother is so very easy to do. I'm not the only one that hasn't been themselves lately. In all honesty, I don't think I've been that off. Maybe a little more negative that usual, but not that bad. I don't think. No one is telling me otherwise (besides my mother) and no one has really cared to change anything so... I guess there's nothing wrong.

Today I have heard three references to Tumblr, or things I've found on Tumblr...I must find my classmates on there, and stalk them, but never add them. I don't need all these people seeing my Tumblr. I don't even like half of them. But that's a whole different story.

I really want to write a poem. But I can't think of what to write. Or rather I can, I just don't know how to say it. How to say these things in my mind. And make them...almost rhyme? Poetry doesn't have to rhyme they say, but they do have to flow. I think that may be my problem, I've lost my flow. Flow. Hmmm...

Dear God,

Dear God,

I know I don't talk to you much, seems I only come to you in times of need. And I know I'm not worthy of saying this prayer. I've done many things wrong by you, and I've dealt in my fair share of sin. But, I need to ask you something important. So, please, if you could take time out of your forever busy schedule, I'd be forever humbled.
You already know about Daisy. Which is why I'm sure you probably already know what I'm going to ask. But the bible says, "Ask and you shall receive" so that's why I'm heard. Lord, there is something wrong with her. I could think of a long list of things that I think is wrong, but in all honesty why would you want to hear those, when it comes down to it, you're the only one that truly knows what's wrong with her. So, I'll make it simple, she's sick. Hurting. And she doesn't deserve it.
All I want to ask you, God, is that you watch over her. Daisy. Ms.Daisy Miller. She's been in my family, probably no less than 7-6 years. She was born in this house. She was Sassy's first daughter. She is the most loyal cat I've ever known or had. So, please god, if you could keep her safe, it would mean the world to me right now. If you could keep her alive, and not suffering, I'd be forever in your debt, even more than I already am. If you could help us, help her to get better. I would be beside myself with gratitude. Lord, I know I've probably never done any good for you. I know that I probably don't deserve this. But she's a good cat, God. She is the best. Please, oh please my lord. Be with her.
All I can say now is thank you, the fate in this rest with you.
Thank you for all you've given me, thank you for everything. I know I don't say thank you enough and I'm sorry. Sorry for everything.
Thank you, God.
I love you.
Amen.