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Bailey May 2016
I carry around a backpack, with the necessities.

Wooden sticks that make themselves known.
Different realities, encoded in letters.
Little metal discs that are exchangeable.
Pages of the past that are also in my brain.
A rectangle that sends my voice where ever I want it to.


I carry myself in a nervous way.

Hands close to my heart or over my stomach, holding myself together.
Shoulders forward, making myself small.
Shaky, apologetic whispers under my breath.


I carry impactful memories.

My brother's traumatized voice on April 19th.
My seventeenth birthday on April 21st.
Some embarrassing moments.
Some frightening moments.
Some good moments.


I carry titles that others give me.

Bailey
Bwee
Beeb
Bails
Martin
Miss
Ma'am
her
him
them
daughter
sister
brother
friend
******
junior
­teenager
drama queen
student 2014123
Pretty-Pretty.


I carry on.
  May 2016 Bailey
Jack Davies
I'm sorry dad, I'm sorry mum,
For these things that I do wrong.
For every smile that I can't give,
This little life that I can't live.
If you could look, through my two eyes,
Then I pray that you'd see why,
The sun will rise when I'm gone.

And when time will pass, and love will fade,
And these little things will all wash away,
I'll call home.

But this ain't goodbye, I'm still your son,
It's just these feet, they plead to run.
Through that sand, 'cross that sea,
Somewhere far away from me.
Where I can sleep amongst the stars,
Open oceans, and empty cars.
Dreams of swimming, on my own.

And when time will pass, and love will fade,
And these pretty things will all wash away,
I'll call home.

For then I'll be, sincerely me,
For like the tide my soul is free.
Salty skin, sun dried hair,
Lungs to breath that morning air.
That eucalyptus in the sky,
As laughing birds begin to cry.
And sunlight sings inside my bones.

And when time will pass, and love will fade,
And these pretty things will all wash away,
I'll call home.
These are song lyrics :)
Audio is here - Soundcloud.com/jackdaviesfolk
  May 2016 Bailey
Alyssa Underwood
There's a peculiar kind of beauty that can only be experienced
with the innate knowledge that the moment is fleeting
and the most intense beauty can only be seen in
the presence of both light and shadows.
For it’s often in the loss of a thing
that its worth to us becomes
most precious and by
letting it go with
grace we can
best savor
its purest
delights.
Realizing
that the pain
runs so deep only
because the beauty ran
so deep and that without
it having once touched us we
wouldn't now know the emptiness
of its loss, our grief will eventually turn to
thankfulness that it ever touched us at all, and
we will be left awed by the mystery of its haunting.
***
Bailey May 2016
If I had a quarter for every single time that I held my tongue instead of speaking my mind,
then I could have a mansion.

A big ol' mansion, with shiny things inside
that I'd never touch, scared they'd break, oh I'd
have a butler who I'd feel guilty for,
making food and answering the door.
My face would be on some magazine
for gluttonous people who try to stay lean.

Would my music exist?
Would I exist?
My friends would warn me,
but I'd insist
that the money was worth it,
that my patience deserved it.

If I had a quarter for every single time that I held my tongue instead of speaking my mind,
then I could have a mansion.

A big ol' mansion, with zero friends inside
comfy bed but I'd cry every night.
No mom to sing my heart out to,
no Marie to say "be good to you".
My chef would make boring food
with no onions or peeples to chew.

Would my paintings exist?
Would I exist?
Without my mother's encouragement,
would this be it?

If I had a quarter for every single time that I held my tongue instead of speaking my mind,
then I would give them all back.

A little ol' house, with my loved ones inside
that's all I need to stay alive.
I may have been kicked while I was down,
doesn't mean that I can't stick around.
I've learned from my quiet days
that you shouldn't speak up without something to say.

So my art exists.
So my heart exists.
All my people are lovely,
I'm so thankful they love me.
And maybe now,
I will think out loud,
after all, you're listening
and I'm still around.
https://soundcloud.com/iguessimbaileymartin/quarters-and-love
Bailey May 2016
i
only
consist
of
nostalgia,
empathy
and
fear
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