Forsaken Thee.

I am fallen from Grace
Exempt from Mercy.
My skin bleeds sin
And my God has forsaken me.

No Angel will usher
My stained soul through
Gates of pearly white.
Nor will my name be heralded
Through the heavenly skies
When the diamonds leave my eyes.

My being is tarnished
And my halo was broken
One night while out rebelling.
My tongue spills hate
And my body shouts neglect.

I am fallen from Grace
Exempt from Mercy.
My skin bleeds sin
My God. I have forsaken thee.

Bailey Jacyne and Walls.

Walls: And as every single bad feeling I thought possible came crashing down upon me all at once like walls of the purest black upon an already injured animal, I saw a light in the darkness. It was a voice. The voice chased away all of the monsters creeping out of the walls and brought me back to the light. I owe this voice and the person behind it everything, even if they don’t believe they’ve really done a lot to help. She really has. I am her angel, and she is my wings.

Hullo! I'm Bailey. This is difficult to start, so I'm just going to write it as though I am writing personally to each of you who may read this. I guess I should start by saying that I live around Seattle, 10,230 miles from where Chay lives. The poem that I wrote (I know, it's crap) above is about the panic attack that I had in early December. It was extremely bad. I won't even go into detail because it's honestly painful to think about. Because it was at around roughly 2 am, Chay was the only person awake at the time. We were messaging on Whatsapp when it started and the only reason why I didn't simply run outside until I passed out on the sidewalk was because I needed wifi to talk to her. She was able to keep me relatively calm by sending me voice messages. I guess I'm kind of writing this for Chay to read as well... I just want her to know how much she means to me. She doesn't believe that she's helped me as much as I've helped her, but she really has. Without even trying, honestly. All that she's done is shown me that I'm worth caring about. That's all I've ever really needed. At the moment, I'm just typing whatever pops into my head. Um.. I guess that I could say being with Chay has made me want to be a better person. I was never really a bad guy, I guess. I just had issues with.. control. I lost myself to my anger much too often (mainly with my family) and I would slip into a state of depression almost every night. Being with Chay, though, I'm honestly pretty happy most of the time. I'm still just writing whatever comes to mind so I'm sorry if this sounds like I'm an idiot or whatever. I also want anyone with depression or who is suicidal or who intentionally hurts themselves or more than one of the above to know that there are people out there who care and who are willing to try to help you through this war we've named life. I'm just going to end this here because I could write on and on and on about everything, but I don't want to bore you. So uh.. Goodbye, I guess. Thanks for reading.

Youth - If You're Still Breathing...

Broken stars and
Broken skin happen
Under the guise of night.

Your youth are filled with tequila ideas
That lurk inside corrupted minds.

We spend our days smiling,
As blue skies whisper our names.
But we spend our nights fighting
Different levels of the same game.

We darken out our eyes,
And pull on inky cloaks
To hide ourselves away,
So that no one really knows
We're relapsing again.

Young tongues slur
Their words,
Through gritted teeth and
Hate filled eyes,
With minds drowning in
Icy water, until the loathing dies.

A generation of non conformists
A generation hiding scars,
Your beautifully broken youth,
Want to frolic between cars.

Pale Reflections

I've restarted this post at least twenty times by now. I just cant seem to find the right words that will express... well... me.

Why is this so difficult? 

I'm getting frustrated with myself because all of a sudden my words seem broken, flat, meaningless. Ahhhh. I don't even know where to start right now. 

Maybe at the part where I confess I'm not okay and tell you all about how I've been thinking about my scars more than I should and the time to admit I'm drowning trying to stay clean.

Maybe this post should be about how lost I feel everyday because I truly believe I am forsaken in the eyes of God. Ha. God... I'm not so sure he even exists, but at the same time I'm completely convinced.

My pale reflection just doesn't look like me anymore. Its not and that scares me. 

Call it growing up, call it a teenage crisis. I have lost myself. 

Oh how beautiful my tragedy is, with a war inside that wont ever calm but a calm outside that only gives way to war. A young maiden trapped by a metaphorical dragon that is life. Maybe that's what all the fairy tales were trying to say. That dragons do exist, they take shape in the form of something called life. 

Oh I know! This post should tell you about how I'm scared to death I end up becoming like those closest to me. Selfish and drunk and normal. Tiny pieces of a person that once was brave, different and too reckless.

I feel like one of those girls who are always complaining about something, the only thing that's different is that I have to filter who and what I tell because not everyone will understand the darkness that I must push through. 

People are scared of the dark because they cant see whats inside it. They are afraid of the unknown, the things they have no control over. So how can I be loved when I feel like darkness even in the brightest daylight? Some days I scare myself with the things I think and want to say and want to do.

At what point did the diamonds leave my bones? When did I become so consumed by the night? 

My monsters aren't under my bed. They're in my head.

They haunt me at night in my dreams. In the dark confines of my mind where they know I wont escape, where they know I wont have control over them. The one part of me where I cant fight back against them. 

They provide me with the most entertaining nightmares. 

I hardly remember how I started this post, but I remember I had a hard time doing it, but now that I'm reaching the end it's getting easier to write again. Sounds a lot like my life at the moment. 

Now i have no idea how to end.

So... 

Goodbye I guess.