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Kay Tailor Apr 2014
Sometimes I just want
To cry.
To let it all out.
But I can’t.
I just can’t.
No matter how bad
My day was
Or how down
I am,
It just
I can feel it there,
Bubbling and brewing
Just under the surface
Like water building up
Against a dam.
Maybe I've held it in
Too long
So that now
My mind doesn't think
To cry.
But I want to
And I can’t wait
Until my dam
Floods and breaks
And I can be
Kay Tailor Apr 2014
I thought you could see through my disguise
See through the charade of everyday
I thought you were different
From the others
The ones who tell me to
Get up
Get moving
Or get out of the way.
While everyone else was herding past,
You offered me your hand
You were the first to tell me
I was worth it.
But that was your game,
Your play.
I wasn't special, not to you.
You led me along
And I enjoyed the ride,
Not realizing that it made me
Just like the
Rest of them.
Kay Tailor Apr 2014
I am swimming
In darkness
Trying to resurface
But there’s something in my way
Holding me back
Pushing me down
I struggle to keep my head up
If I can get it up at all
I’m drowning, drowning
Sinking deeper
While you sit and wait
For me to find my strength
And join you.
Kay Tailor Apr 2014
He’s so **** cute.
Every time I see him
It’s like a shock.
I stumble for the right words
Even knowing that
Any words with him are the
Right ones.
When we look each other in
The eyes
It’s like everyone else just
Fades away.
But every time
I feel that jolt
And connection,
I force myself to
Look away,
Because I know I can’t get
To him.
Even though I want to,
I know I’ll be
Left behind
In the end.
And I can’t afford
Another piece
Of me.
Kay Tailor Apr 2014
Have you ever felt
A compelling urge
To hug somebody?
To just wrap your arms around them
And never let go?
You just want to drop everything
And hug that person,
Touch them,
Embrace them.
You just want to be near them.
No talking.
Just hugging.
Because you seem to say more,
Have deeper discussions,
When you’re in each other’s arms
Then when conversing aloud.

That’s the kind of bond
I want to have with someone
Some day.
Because the simplest of things
Speak louder
Than any words
Ever will.
Kay Tailor Jun 2014
If I die tomorrow,
Will anyone remember me?
What would they even remember me for?
Would they remember the good things?
The bad things?
Or would they not remember anything at all?
Would everything I was fade away,
Until there’s nothing left?
No one wants to be forgotten,
And neither do I,
But what do I want to be remembered for?
The good things?
The bad things?
I want to be remembered for who I was
And who I wasn't.
I want to make an impression,
To make a difference.
I want to be known for something important,
But also for all the trivial things,
How I always seemed to have my foot in my mouth
How easily I’d get off topic
How I’d put everything off until the last minute.
I want to be known for both
My good
My bad
I want to set an example,
Be respected,
Be someone you could look up to.
I want to be known as someone who
Dreamed and Did,
Someone who made what they wanted happen.
I guess that I’m not where I want to be quite yet,
But I know I’ll get there,
Creative writing project for school.
It had me up all night trying to write something that meant something, not just something that I thought would get me a decent grade.
One of two.
Kay Tailor Apr 2014
Do you ever feel like you’re not really there?
Like people aren't ignoring you, they just can’t see you?
Do you feel that you’re a face easily forgotten
And a voice always outspoken?
It’s like there’s a one-way window between you and the rest of the world
And you’re the one always looking in.
And you know it probably won’t ever change.
But you can’t help but hope that someone on the other side dares to look out and see you.
Kay Tailor Jun 2014
“What do you want people to remember you for?”
That question has been haunting me for a while now.
What *do
I want to be remembered for?
I've never really been outgoing,
Or funny,
Or confident.
I've always stayed by myself,
Alone with my thoughts.
I don’t go to parties, or do wild things.
I don’t have a lot of friends,
And it’s hard for me to get close to someone.
I’m not popular.
Not known.
You ask someone in the hall if they’re seen me
And they don’t know who you’re talking about,
Because there’s nothing noticeable about me,
Nothing I’m really good at,
I’m easily forgettable.
Just another face in the crowd.
I guess part of me doesn't care,
Because that part of me knows that
No one else does.
But the other part
Wants to know,
What will I be remembered for?
And will I even be remembered at all?
Creative writing project for school.
It had me up all night trying to write something that meant something, not just something that I thought would get me a decent grade.
Two of two.

— The End —