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Lily Hasler Jun 2013
My heart is not the same as my brain
They have two different functions
They hold two different meanings
They are both telling me different things

My brain explains the good from the bad
While the heart says "go for what makes you happy"
But my brain doesn't know what that is yet
I am still trying to figure that out

I suppose this makes me human
Just like the blood running through my veins
But if that blood escapes from our body,
How much do we have to lose until we're no longer human?
Lily Hasler Jun 2013
Do you think the same?

I would like to say you do

but who knows? You're dead.
Lily Hasler Jun 2013
I hate the kind of cry
That you only know is there
Once it hits your cheeks.


So into your thoughts
You don't realize the salty tears
Coming down...

                    all the way down.

I let the liquid find its way to my chest
It reaches my heart and then
I remember why I'm crying


You.

                                             You both.
                                                                                                         All of you.
                                                                                                                                                         Everyone.
Lily Hasler May 2013
No one is here
I am going to sink
Does anyone see me asking for help?

No one is here
I am going to crash
Does anyone see a way out of here?

No one is here
I am going to yell
Does anyone know where my voice went?

No one is here
I am going to do it
Lily Hasler Apr 2013
Oh no
Not again
Please don't let this happen again
I can't take the stress
I can't take the choosing
Is this right or is this wrong?
I feel a litte bit of both but I just can't stop
Am I a bad person?
Or a good person stuck in a bad situation?
Lily Hasler Apr 2013
There are very few things in our world
That we have a choice with
From the color of our cars,
To our best friends.
But if someone tries to take that right
Away from our tiny grasp

                                             What's the point of the being your own person?  
                                             What's the point of having a brain of your own?
                                             What's the point of even thinking about it?

                                                                                                                                       What's the point?
Lily Hasler Mar 2013
There are some things I’d like to ask
To this body of mine
Do you like the way you look?
Or would you rather fix your flaws?

No bodies are perfect
But it seems that way for some
For yours have so many imperfections
Or though it might seem so

To my body: I don’t like the way your thighs don’t touch
I don’t like the way your stomach’s not flat
If models aren’t the way you are,
Why would boys desire to have you?

I wish they could see what’s beneath your looks
Because if so they might look twice
But no one ever cares enough
To see what’s good down deep inside

So to my body I ask; will you change for their demands?
I think you’re better just being yourself
If they can see what’s in your heart
That should be enough for anyone, especially you
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