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Hailee Harris Oct 2018
how can you keep a secret. how can you keep a lie. how can live you live with yourselves knowing what they did. are you all in a cult or are you turning a blind eye. you know secrets that could save people lives, but instead you choose to live a lie. I've seen good things, I've bad things but I've never seen a lie like this. how can anybody turn a blind eye to this. lies breed lies. satan breeds a devil, but justice will one day breed the truth.
Hailee Harris Oct 2018
this poem has cancer.
a lump of letters in a swollen stanza and here we are: our monthly visits to the poetry clinic, flushing out the enemy with a double does of rhymotheraphy.
the course is intensive.
expensive, too.
specialist care isn't near; it takes a full toner cartridge to get here and we have to stay for weeks, sometimes. it's then I wish I could find the money for some special treat.
glossy paper is not cheap.
more time is spent away than home; so there's no work on other poems, no other income coming in.
pockets and patience wear thin.
we cannot afford to be unsupported.
and every poem needs its poet.
cancer costs.
you should know this.
#cancercosts #experiencedcancerlife
just something that I went through the last 7 months of my life, but I'm a tough survivor. :))
Hailee Harris Oct 2018
every morning we look into the mirror and everyone sees something different. someone sees big bright smile and someone sees dark circle under the eyes. someone is shining with happiness and someone is just empty shell without emotions. someone goes to work/school with that bright smile from the morning, but someone has to think which mask he/she will wear today. most people see us that we are happy with our lives, but those are only masks. masks that hide us from the world. and why do we wear masks? I wear them to protect myself, to hide my weak self. someone once told me, that I changed. but it's not true I just changed my mask. we wear masks to make other people proud. then we make one mistake and they judge us. they tell us to be ourselves... but when we are, they don't like it. so question is:
Do you really want me to stop hide behind my masks when I'm broken? Do you want to see me break down because of my past? Do you really want to see this side of me? I don't think so.
I'm not really sure if this is a poem or poetry but oh well, I did my best. :))

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