a_myriad_of_stars_07

United States

15 // Sophmore
Hi! I'm Hailey, and I love to read the Book of Mormon, eat Chipotle burritos, dance like a crazy maniac in my room, lose brain cells in Chem, belt Hamilton at the top of my lungs, compose music on my piano, oh, and write :)

Message from Writer

My new account is:
sun_is_still_shining
I might move some pieces from here over there...

Published Work

A Myriad of Stars

I was a myriad of stars- 
thousands of thoughts sprinkled in the dark. 
Each floated alone in the dark abyss 
but was still inseparably connected to another by the irreplaceable forces of fate. 

I sat in my darkness,  
letting constellations form in strange patterns around me. 
I watched as the wild creation took shape 
into a form of me that I could no longer recognize. 
The scripted stars of plastic became my identity as I molded under others' gravity. 
Scared, the facades of my atmosphere grew thicker 
To protect my small iron core that was growing weaker. 

But now I'm awake 
And I dance under the blanket of stars,  
instead of letting its darkness extinguish my sunbeams in its heavy, navy, velvet fists. 
I am now a galaxy of my own, with innumerable stars and planets of my God's design 
filling my past, present, and future. 

Others' gravity was once the author of my destiny; 
writing my future in a...

i am Hailey #IAmContest

I am Hailey, and I am enough.
I wonder when I will meet the one I've been dreaming about my whole life
I hear distant melodies in the silence
I see Ferris wheels in the skylights when I take off my glasses on clear, summer nights
I want to look back in ten years and be proud of 15-year old me
I am Hailey, and I am enough.

I pretend to be the next Broadway sensation when I belt in my closet.
I feel fear, but also warm reassurances in my heart that everything will be okay.
I touch the stars and grasp them in my hands, like snowballs on weather days in January
I worry that I will mess up and hurt the world around me
I cry when people see themselves as worthless.
I am Hailey, and I am enough.

I understand that there is a God, who has a plan and who loves everyone.
I say that...

Blue Skies and Brown Watercolors

Before the war
Our wide, crystal eyes drank in the stars 
Our laughter filled the darkness with a technicolor light 
We ran barefoot in the underbrush 
And when the rain fell, we opened our mouths wide 
 
We'd swing together and then pick pictures out of the clouds 
Swing higher and higher in games of Truth or Dare 
We sang an off-pitch, F major melody 
With hopes and dreams woven like flowers in our long, flowing hair 
 
And when the sun said goodnight in paint strokes of pink and red 
We would hold hands and dance, giggling in the dark 
We'd leap across the meadows, playing hand-clapping games 
Then lie down on the cold grass and number the stars 
 
One day we sat braiding daisies into crowns 
And my blue sky eyes erupted in flames 
Your older brother by four years came running 
His eyes screaming fear and his mouth yelping our names 
 
Your eyes froze at...

A VCR with broken tape

Who the heck am I?
If you know, then please make sure to tell me
My mind has erased every inch of me
Please remind me of my scars before they fade completely

Because when darkness comes, I run and hide
I languish in the tears that aren't mine
In my mind's broken record, spinning so fast that I can't see
And I know all of my characters more than I know me

Their voices are more resonant than my friends'
Their pains and sorrows numb mine
Their lives are more interesting than the one I live
So I leave myself behind

But when my feet are thrown on the floor
And a voice calls out my name
I can't rewind to the past
Like a VCR with strangled tape

I can't remember the girl I left behind
The girl I told that she would be made if these imaginations became her destiny
And creative figments became her reality
But...

The Last Leaf Falling

      Robert’s head was heavy with the weight of troubled thoughts as he dropped his oldest son’s possessions into the golden flames. He gently let go of Logan’s robots that he and his little brother, Ethan had built, his drawings, what seemed to be five thousand joke books, hundreds of old rock vinyl discs, and various movie ticket stubs. As the items turned to dust, Robert watched his tears drop into the fire, and seemingly make the flames rise higher. Memories flooded his senses like a liquor of the precious, simpler times- days spent in amusement parks and the Cactus Diner, family campouts at their New Mexico lodge, taking his two sons to church and school and camps. He missed those days- the days before Ethan’s OCD and silence, and before Lucas’s depression took his life and Ethan’s soul. Robert watched the flames rise, unaware that Ethan had returned from gathering firewood for a supposed smores roast.
 
 ...

Writing Streak Week 5, Day 1

Monday
The gentle hums of my bedroom fan
Echo the spinning commotion in my brain
where myriads of technicolor dreams rustle through my lobes
Untouchable, yet simple to dive into
They are little ombrifuges from the travails of human existence
As the world spins breathlessly out of control
Like a kid full of cotton candy on a rainbow roller coaster
I find myself falling down deep into their sounds
As they echo through my small, rounded, unpierced ears
Leaving me 
           Breathless.
 

The Sun Sits on a Gray Canvas

Humanity sits in a straight narrow line 
Painted by silhouettes of black and white 
Stroked and prodded into a perfect dark gray 
The colors must be blotted out for peace to remain 
 
The scars of mankind were made to be mended 
The colors of life were created to be blended 
God-given gifts were given to be lost 
The fragile creatures are built to be tossed 
                                                                      Off the edge 
 
The heart of humanity stands on rocky cliffs 
You must fade into the picture to be loved and missed 
Shattered wings and abnormalities 
Must be treated as the worst of tragedies 
 
You must give the sun a trench coat 
Cover its beams with blackness 
Let the gold burn to dark grey ashes 
Paint another gray streak onto...

silent tears of the broken

Stomachs echo the pouring thunderstorms of agony
Feet pound into the kitchen, scraped up, bloodied, and sodden
I pull a small pot from the cupboard
And boil one last pot of ramen

Yellow noodles, worn by time's sands of dust
Begging to be set free into the bubbling abyss of the pan
Fall gently into the waters below
Kissing the bottom that has loved no man

Six eyes, empty and baggy stare into mine
Blues and browns brokenheartedly begging for a single drop
I empty the noodles into three bowls
And scoop away the last of the orange, dirt-colored broth

Their bodies of bones showing through their skins
Inhale the small clumps of overpriced rations with blissful glee
Their rugged, dirty forms set down the dishes
And happily grin their yellow smiles back at me

I grab them by their faded Goodwill T-shirts
and hold them close to the barely beating heartbeat of my chest
A single tear scrapes my...

perdendosi- angels cry as the world falls off the edge

Angels weep as the world caves in
Colors streaming from their gentle eyes
Wetting their beautifully worn brown skin
Their hearts shattered, and wings drooping downwards
They mourn in agony
As lovers leave sparks to die with the wind
and friends become fuels for red flamed fires of rage
As the hopelessly wounded are tormented 
and the kind, gentle spirits are transformed into scapegoats
Of a world falling off the edge
and the brave trampled as leaves in the Autumn breeze
As the wings of freedom become hopelessly enchained by fear's tangling grasp
and rip from the backs of the mighty, the crippled, the weak, and the Kings
As echoes of song ring mercilessly into hearts with no ear to listen
As memories fade away
Angels hug the world with their tear stroked palms
Kissing the world as it disappears
Their wings burning away as the sun and moon cry into the night
Forms curled in their knees, silently screaming ...

Writing Streak Week 4, Day 3

My 14-year old sister sings standing on the kitchen table
Letting the lyrics enfold her in their soft rhythms and vibrant colors
Passion illuminating every photon of light in her soul
Beckoning me to come, see
And open my eyes

Towers

Who am I to wish
For the world outside my reach
To hunger for a place where 
The greatest stand and preach
To plea and cry and bleed and die 
Surrounded by beautiful melodies
To cry and break and make mistakes
In the room of jealousies

But their voices ring loud and wild and free
They speak to my soul
They’re calling me
Tall and gorgeous and big and strong
I would jump if I’d belong
Leap into darkness
And fight for my life
But I’m just a shadow 
Drowning in their light

Who am I to wander
In a place where the kings roam
To step among the greatest 
Where they let their music flow
To wonder and cry and bleed and die
Surrounded by beautiful melodies 
To cry and break and make mistakes
In the room full of jealousies

But their voices ring loud and wild and free
They speak to my soul
They’re calling me
Tall and...

Writing Streak Week 4, Day 2

Crazy choir kids,
filled with the crackhead energy of thousands of cappuccinos, 
Create happiness in an otherwise depressing video chat
Causing chaos to become as curiosity, warmth, and sunlight
Calling my sun to rise again
In rainbow fusions of heavenly beauty

Dancing on the Berlin Wall

I thrust my fingers like jagged blades into the keys
Sending 88 keys to the bottom of their eternal home
Stabbing the bottom 3 octaves on the left
Screaming 4 notes at once on the right
Letting my music gasp and cry from the old, black creature
I breathe.
and my soul frees itself from this insane asylum that used to be my home
I dance on the Berlin wall
Carelessly throwing my thoughts into the wind

My fingers float, relax and then release, 
My bluish-grayish eyes open wide as the possibility of tommorow
I gently pat the keys
The fires have extinguished, the waters silenced
My feet move away in a gentle sway
My soul dances amid myriads of stars
And I smile.

Writing Streak Week 4, Day 1

My little sister screams "The Circle of Life" lyrics, 
her battle cry echoing my rendition of "Red and Black"
as we chase each other in an epic battle,
armed only with pool noodles, tennis shoes, and the forces of the heavens.

Poetry and Spoken Word Competition 2020

Kintsugi


A small white canvas sits alone
Still to be painted, still to be sold
Ethereal tones, unshaped by man
Pure until the next day began...

When small fingerprints traced her corners
Painting with purples her once white face
Thumbprints pressed themselves into the canvas
Creating impressions of beauty and grace

A thick black brush dipped in blues
Stroked her remaining space
Covering up her original feathers
and leaving stars in their place

 The painting is happily put up for sale
    But she stands out in the crowd
        They all sell pink plastic paper
            And fingerprints are not allowed

            Hundreds of hands rip and tear her figure
        And pull the colors from her frame
    Disfiguring the hues that became her soul
 and then hurl the disaster
   into flames.




   The small white canvas sits alone
        Burnt to the core and broken down
             Her colors were gone, so was her frame
                  Her identity was gone, so what could remain?

                          Her stars were gone
                                Her...

Five Line Fiction

Ambivalence

His hand slipped away, a callused fabric of wears and tears letting go of her small, five-year old hand. Tears streamed like acid from her cheeks, her internal fears finally scarring her perfect face. “Don’t go,” she whispered.

Hazel constantly watched her dad leaving forever in her mind’s instant replay, hugging the memory, fighting it, holding the memory, tearing it. However much as she despised it, Hazel grasped the memory with her life, fearing the day when like all her other memories it would fade away.

Writing Streak Week 3, Day 2

Petrichor
I awaken when water droplets fall.

Writing Streak Challenge Week 3

Writing Streak Week 3, Day 1

Sophrosyne 
I'm falling upward towards the stars.

Free as a Bird

i am a bird
no ceilings can hold me
no people control me
i don’t listen
              to their words.

they think they can try
to keep me inside
chained down and incarcerated
but I can fly
i’ve no reason to hide
although i am hurt
                       and hated

they never see
the person in me
       that is human and wants to be loved
i can only be
who’s inside of me
                    regardless of skin and blood

i know they may say
i am boring and gray
                  i’ve accepted that this is me.
their words can’t cause me pain
and though my tears fall like the rain
                                 ...

Poetry and Spoken Word Competition 2020

Kintsugi

A small white canvas sits alone
Still to be painted, still to be sold
Ethereal tones, unshaped by man
Pure until the next day began

When small fingerprints traced her corners
Painting with purples her once white face
Thumbprints pressed themselves into the canvas
Creating impressions of beauty and grace

A thick black brush dipped in blues
Stroked her remaining space
covering up her original feathers
and leaving stars in their place

The painting is happily put up for sale
But she stands out in the crowd
They all sell pink plastic paper
And fingerprints are not allowed

Hundreds of hands rip and tear her figure
And pull the colors from her frame
Disfiguring the hues that became her soul
and then throw the disaster into flames



The small white canvas sits alone
Burned to the core and broken down
the colors were gone, so was her frame
Her identity was gone, so what could remain?

Her stars were gone ...

Early Morning OCD- A Walk in the Park

    One, two, three, four, five 
        It was 5:30 A.M., the moon full, sky half-filled with stars, park empty. No noise or screams or commotions or people. All Ethan could hear was his footsteps in their rhythmical thumps, the huff of his breath moving in and out, in and out. With the Twenty-One Pilots blasting through his spotless, white earbuds, Ethan closed his eyes, his brain calculating each step on autopilot. 
    Six, seven, eight, one, two, three...crunch! 

        Opening his eyes with a start, Ethan peered down at a small, crimson Skittles wrapper smashed under his sneaker, its rainbow, circular contents spilled on the cold, faceless pavement.  
    Don’t touch it!  
    There could be thousands of micro bacteria on that thing! Staphylococcus, Coronaviruses, scabs, infections, dead skin cells, mucus, carcinogens…..What if someone else touches it? What if someone else dies because you are too selfish to pick up a tiny wrapper?
 

        Ethan felt his hand grasp the slimy, plastic creature and shuddered at the contact it made with his clean fingers.  
    It looks like you’re...

Less Homework Please!!

April 2, 2020 
Dear FHS School Board Members: 
        AP students are the smartest students in school, and their grades are on the verge of failing. Dual Credit students have the most ambition, and they are constantly having to give less of themselves on each assignment and are restrained from pursuing their passions. They are the strongest students in the school, and they are cracking (Antithesis). A new homework policy that requires AP and Dual Credit teachers to lighten their students’ homework loads should be enacted, to create time for students to explore their passions, improve students’ physical and emotional well-being, and renew students’ motivation for learning. 

1: Less homework makes more time for life-enhancing opportunities. 
        For most students there is time for school, time for sports, time for friends, time for family, time for church, time for teenage love, and time for self-discovery (anaphora). For most AP and Dual Credit students, however, there is time for only one thing:...

The Color of These Scars

November 12, 1928 
    Life is a desolate wilderness, light an’ dark, warm an’ cold, gentle an’ unforgivin’. It is a sunset, holdin’ down de sky with its many colors. It lights de world in majestic splendor, only to plunge de world into infinite darkness so suffocatin’ that it’s hard to come up fo’ air. We trudge on through dis godforsaken wilderness, backs heavy with the possibility of tomorrow and the weight of these troubled thoughts.  

    The darkness ah left behind still calls me, echoing in waves through mah red, scorched ears. The cotton fields empty as de burnin’ hole inside mah heart. De devil’s nasty boll weevils eatin’ up the crops, mah wages, and mah chillin’s future. Collapsing in disarray each day, watching the sunset eat up the world lak da bullet did  mah husband’s chest. Reds an’ blues an’ reds an’ golds an’ reds an’ blacks an’ reds. 

    Dem demon colors light da sky above, as if to laugh at mah heart, to laugh at de long road to blessed Harlem. They light the sky to applaud the once beautif’l state of Texas, expanding the darkness they created, darkness that makes de blackness of mah skins seem as white as de snow. De devil is out dere puttin his hands on dem paintbrushes to black out da heavens. Reds an’ blacks an’ golds an’ reds an’ blues an’ reds. 

    These suffocate mah soul, drownin’ out de beauty dat once was dere an’ dat awaits mah chillin and ah in Harlem. 

    Harlem. A city of light. A place where de sun never sets, and mah dreams aren’t quenched as the candle past nine! Ah heard...

The Last Letter

Wind, leaves, light, darkness. 
------------

            Ethan opened his eyes, fingers clenching the small off-white envelope.  
            Feet digging into the rich, brown soil, he breathed in the scents of the parchment, noting hints of sharpie and the unmistakable scent of his brother’s terrible cologne. His fingers traced the nasty scrawl on its face, written in thick, black marker, and gently stroked the small black fingerprints that covered the seal on the back of the envelope.  

            Logan had always been one for messes.  

            Butterflies filled Ethan’s stomach, opening his wide, brown eyes to his surroundings. What a strange place to read this letter. New Mexico’s mountain majesties were strong and tall, open and free. The trees were whistling and dancing in the slight, autumn breeze, their leaves slowly falling, like snowflakes from an empty sky. The sky was full, colors stretching across its canvas, reds and oranges bidding adieu to their golden master. The moon, its silent brother, would soon be left in the darkness of a thousand words, left to roam alone and fall slowly, begging the sun to bring back the light and warmth.
    
            Maybe it wasn’t such an odd setting after all.

            Hair rustling in the wind,...

Younger Me?

Hello,
     younger me?
where have you gone?
the world used to be your playground
you could only see the stars
but now the stars are gone
                    and all i see is darkness

Hello,
     happy me?
why did you leave me?
life was a bliss paradise full of friends
you could only skip and shout and dance
now my legs are numb
                    and i walk these halls alone

Hello,
     better me?
can you come home?
i am an empty cavity with oxygen to spare
i can’t ask you to stay
you probably wouldn’t like it in here
but a little light could save
                          this dying soul 
                                falling down ...

Seventh Grade

Breathe.
One day more
Disappear
Breathe...

Freeze your Brain
Bend and Snap
Shine a Light 
Breathe...

What the Heck I Gotta Do?
What's Wrong With Me?
I'm Not That Girl
I am Damaged
Breathe...

Role of A Lifetime 
Hiding In Your Hands
On My Own
Breathe...

SOS
Falling Slowly
Breathe...

Until the Last Tear Falls

She sings amid the silence
When nobody’s there
Spinning and twirling 
Hopes and dreams woven in her hair
Always waiting for the sun to rise
But everything that lives surely dies

Their voices fill the darkness
Beckoning a storm
Breaking up the broken
Until everything is gone
Their laughter shakes the hurting
And cripples those who crawl
Never seeing the pain
Until the last tear falls

She walks in silence
Painted with her tears
No one stops to notice
As she slowly disappears 
Closes her eyes
Breathes in
Vows to never see the sun again
Jumping, leaping off the edge

Their voices fill the darkness
Beckoning a storm
Breaking up the broken
Until everything is gone
Their laughter shakes the hurting
And cripples those who crawl
Never seeing the pain
Until the last tear falls

Their voices are fading
As the world washes away
Words are still echoing
But she can’t feel the pain

Their voices fill the darkness
Beckoning...

Kintsugi

A small white canvas sits alone
Still to be painted, still to be sold
Ethereal tones, unshaped by man
Open until the next day began

Small fingerprints traced her corners
Painting with purples her once white face
Thumbprints pressed themselves into the canvas
Creating impressions of beauty and grace

A thick black brush dipped in greens
Stroked her remaining space
covering up her original feathers
and leaving stars in their place

The painting is happily put up for sale
But she stands out in the crowd
They all sell pink plastic paper
And fingerprints are not allowed

Hundreds of hands rip and tear her figure
And pull the colors from her frame
Disfiguring the hues that became her soul
and then throw the disaster into flames



The small white canvas sits alone
Burned to the core and broken down
the colors were gone, so was her frame
Her identity was gone, so what could remain?

Her stars were gone
Her...

Rainbow Riptides

My fingers trace the cool ocean waves
flowing and growing, sweeping in every motion
cold and smooth, washing away humanity's pains
I gently breathe in the air
releasing cares in purple smoke

Leaping in with a single splash
Ripples caress the commotion
Easing warm thoughts into the abyss below
Euphoria becomes my air
releasing love in blue smoke
 
My legs sink into the lukewarm tunnel
Digging deeper for relief
The surface vanishes in the midnight sun
water becomes my air
releasing freedom in green smoke

Diving into the harsh stormy waves
Pulled by dependency's hard tightened strings
Suffocating hope's delicate wings
gasping for the air
releasing health in yellow smoke

Twisted, pulled by watery chains
into the ocean bottom's merciless embrace
Squirming and fighting, with no solace
darkness becomes my air
releasing my soul in orange smoke

Clenched by paralyzing euphoria's bite
White waves ripple into my hollowed lungs
I cough and burn whole as the riptide crashes in ...

After... After... After

Arnekum (Unmake)

After the sun fell on my sufferings with no solace, after God’s hand wavered, and disappeared from my sight, after refusing to climb into gentle morning’s hopeful embrace, after drowning in hurricanes of paralyzing shame and relentless guilt, after closing my eyes to the possibility of tomorrow, after permanently silencing myself, after golden hands clasped mine own of soaked memory, blood, ink, and tears, after the obsidian horizon split into innumerable, heavenly paintstrokes of gold, red, purple, and blue, after stepping onto the hardwood floor, after taking one step, than another, and another, after clasping the cold, weathered knob of the deck door, after stepping into the myriad of stars, after gently opening my grayish-bluish eyes, after raising my mouth to the universe and letting go, after screaming all of me into the abyss of the heavens....
I awoke.