Leave me alone,
with the trees and the rocks that feel as cold as the stone,
where the leafs will fall down like the rain the pores from the clouds,
and I still sit there getting soaked by the leaves as the touch me like it's allowed,
I'll pour my heart into what I feel is worth something more than what I have,
but for now my heart is silent like the leaves as they fall down onto me,
and my mind is the only thing making a sound,
like the wind does ever so effortlessly,
and it isn't until the leaves have covered me completely,
that I feel nothing but there cold,
a cold that is like the trees and rocks,
but felt a lot more like stone,
and as the leaves became stone,
like I finally felt alone,

We are the Failure, Cowards and Conditioned Leaders,
We face the future with warm courage and high hope.
We don't want to wake up and face the music,
as we keep sticking with old and precious values,
For we are the destroyer of homes,
homes for a future that we can't seem to get our hands on,
homes where living will be the expression of everything,
but like that is good and fair,
this shan't be that,
how we hope, future homes hold,
truth and love and security and faith will be realities,
but like all dreams,
we wake and see its not a reality,
We are the Failure, Cowards and Conditioned Leaders,
as we face the future with warm courage and high hope.
for nothing good will come from our race.

I want to skip,
Skip class,
Skip school,
Skip life...

Skip around like the inner child in me,
Screams out asking for,
Daily,
Nightly,

When ever things are bad,
Just,
Skipping around my issues,
Like people skipped around me,

I think about skipping out,
If all the bad things,

But what if I miss,
Something good,
Because I was too busy,
Skipping.

But I get torn to pieces
For the stupidest reasons

I want to be loved,
more than you feel unloved,
more then I tell you daily,
I love you sweetie,
Love you more then I want you,
to just love me,
and feel my love surround you,
hold you,
and have you hold me,
but you don't
you walk the otherway free,
and leave me in a cell,
and you come and go as you please,
and when you do visit me,
it's like a cell block tango of emotions,
as if you throw me behind bars,
untouched,
unloved,
by you,
when I just want you to,
hold me.

before grade six,
when I entered junior high,
witch felt like junior low,
as it was truly the smallest formation of this lowness they try to hid underneath this word "high",
like high school is alright if you get high enough to get though the rough times,
or maybe I still didn't understand the difference between these words,
the words that hurt like he hit with a closed fist but I was lucky to only get open ones,
to feeling like someone spiked my lunch milk because these definitions make no sense, and my brain is trying so hard to grasp so many terms at once it feels as if its tripping on acid,
but no.
its just distracted,
showing me being a foll of myself again and again,
a repeated playlist of all my mistakes,
of me tripping up.
thats about as far and close to acid as ill get.
but what hurts the most is english,
this first language ******* that the tried to wrap around my mind,
but at the same time I finally learned my first english lesson,
I was in grade six,
I learned a french lesson the class before.
and each and every day I had to work to learn the things,
others were allowed to learn before me,
because teachers and school systems stole my education from me,
were I only even remember sitting in english class once because we had a sub, and I learned cursive on the first day in grade three,
but couldn't spell my name yet,
and the mess I was got messyer as I tried to commit the ink to the paper,
where it made me cry because I knew for a fact I was stupid,
and teachers who still wanted to say I was fine and not help me had the decency to say I was smart,
when they were the reasons I could not succeed.
now letters,
and the alphabet,
had no rules,
why to this day I still have not mastered spelling and cursive,
the basic reading skills you'd expect from someone my age.
im 16 and I was 6 when I could divide and multiple,
by hundreds,
thousands by the start of first grade,
the only type of math,
that made no mathematical sense,
where the ******* how'd you get your anwser questions.
being older now,
I fight back writing
look at my ******* work you stupid *****,
so I simply draw an arrow and don't get the credit,
and I leave word problems blank.
and even with doing that,
I had to of gotten everything right,
for them to wanna push me a head a grade level,
because of math,
every single ******* year oh she could go up a grade!
and then my
reading and writing scores said I should repeat a grade,
and they just left me where I was,
see math is the gate way for me,
it was my only thing I felt good about I didnt know what else to call that,
math in my heart of hearts saved my life,
its the only reason I learned any bit of english,
enough to keep up my fight,
its the only reason I belived in myself,
because with math you just have to try,
and you have to try to solve your problems,
instead of writing about them like I'm doing down,
i'm crying while im writing
because they don't see how much they hurt me now.

If you knew,
I liked you,
If what they said and thought about us,
was true,
If we were really ever going to,
end up being a thing,
If we became more,
than lunch pals,
homework calls,
I'd be all yours,
you know so,
I know so,
But what we have,
is a ******* great friendship pal,

its easy
to love me
at 2a.m.
If I'm happy.

but what if,
I'm on the bathroom floor,
upset.

I didn't,
even though,
I wanted to,

I wanted to watch candles flicker and scabs form,
I wanted to see blood **** from were the light was so bright,
like nothing could be dark,

but the irony in what I wanted to do,
using light to create the darkness,
my simple candle will mimic the gods in the sun.

but my mind became that of a stronger one,
knowing the candle need not make my path darth,
and the candle acted as a godly sun,
the godliest of all,
the british one,

and I just felt over old burns and cuts,
and cried as one might,
in a the present of the brits sun god,

for even the queen herself would of cried if given her time.
but right now it's just me,
and the dark night.

Maybe it was better this way,
Better to learn this today,

Rather then trying to **** up a hard truth,
In years older then my youth,

you took my life,
and made me sharpen my knife,

and I handed you it,
you stabbed me with it,
and wouldn't even toss me the first aid kit,

Satin white stained red,
from blood shed,

and I sat there and wilted away,
and you still took my body and played,

And maybe I owe you a thank you,
Because now I have a few clues,

I know what you did was ****,
But at lest you let me escape,

who else would of let me out of there *******?
even if it was without your doing...

so let me just make this loud and clear
Because I might even toast with my beer,

Yes you may have helped me learn something,
but I learned that you matter no more than a piece of string,

but you were that worthless ******* piece of string,
that was holding my world together at the seams,

Every night
The nightmares come
Tearing at her
Until she comes undone.
Every night
They stay the same
Taunting her
Until she goes insane.
Every night
She stays awake,
How much more
Can one girl take?
Every night
Her cries aren’t heard,
Or if they are
No one says a word,

1,
I will tell you every detail and fact no matter how mean,
lets start off by being honest I was turning sixteen,
2,
my life was falling faster then the leaves from trees,
Dropped like petals from decaying flowers
                 because they were ignored by the bee's,
I was wilting massively wanting to be free,
of my misery,

3,
**** is not something they teach you about,
and when it happened to me it was considered allowed,
Because when he did it,
I didn't have a fit,
or say "No stop",
I just kept crying like I was before in even more shock,
But like a toddlers screams and cries,
Your demanding wants was the only compromise,
But in the the same way,
my cries made me just as much as your baby,
4,
and he didn't take care of me,
like he promised he would,
like any man claims they could,

5,
I was still cutting myself up again,
until December 2014 on the 10th,
That's when I decided to stop,
6,
We had split, in late February,
the year before now as it still felt then it felt even more necessary,
now to cut myself again,
because like my face has been a women though she could be so plain,
and state to me sweetie,
as I listened to a women use words like a child does things sneaky,
As she explained to me how badly you had mistreated me,

7,
I didn't disagree,
but she and I knew I wore a face of unbelief,
like how a drug addict doesn't wish to admit there mistreatment,
but to make it worse she tied in my mother and father,
like tying the rope on there daughter,
8,
I now sat on the floor,
my life I lived was not the same and I couldn't handle more,
I heard her talk to me about the school,
and all the kids there,
and what they did to me,
but right then my body only knew how to go through the motions,
of point A to point B,
when I got up and grabbed a pen,
and began,

8,
I spoke about my 8th birthday my final birthday party,
9,... I mean 10,
I wrote on my arms,
till both looked like a henna tattoo's gone into a complete mess,
but they were names,
and places,
and everything,
because I remembered everyone's words,

11,
I took the pen,
and on each sleeve of hate,
I made what as a normal person would call there own fate,
pen in hand I put pen to skin and pressed down,
and like how you press your lips and body to the person you love
you move around,
12,
the pen was pulled down,
and like Siemens twins
the other helped me drown
the next one.

13,
the day before my birthday I leave the hospital,
and I know what I did was not logical
but like a freak it was probable,
and the kids not knowing the scars on my arms,
the wounds I had created most due to them,
still picked on me,
14,
I went home and my mom yelled at me,
I skipped dinner,
woke to the same thing,
she demanded to drive me in,
and hit me the whole five minute car ride there,

15,
It was my birthday,
my 16th birthday,
and I hit my mother back finally,
while she was driving,
16,
I arrived at school,
and she was cursing at me,
so I cursed back,
Called her a **** and ran inside crying,

and you said,
I don't care about you.
I have no problem,
I just don't care about your existence anymore.
nothing personal,

and now I understand,
no one will stick around for you.
even those who love you.
and you just have to let them fly away,
like butterflies you wanted to take.

My film class,
Is my favorite class

and the class I hate the most,

I love film,
I have a passion for this art,

this medium,

this class is my soul and bodies passion,
and like a job,

like my job,

it fits me,
but like all jobs,

there's things that just ******* ****.

and it's not over the normal things,
like time and money,

its the people you work with,

or in my case,
my class,

and they are all *****,

when someone makes it their point,
to upset you and hurt you everyday,

because finally you are good at something,

when you **** at science,
and allowed your math skills to fall behind,

your life is filled with lies and you find,

a reason to live,
worth all your effort and time

but the same people calling you stupid and dumb and a **** up,

in math and science,
are in this film class,

forced to take a smile,

and sarcastically say,
"good job,"

when your film gets played in class,

and even when you ask,
no one give you advice like you give when asked,

and every frame seen on the projected screen,

gives me anxiety,
and the rude, unhelpful reminders from my bullies,

don't ******* help me,

when I want to run out of my favorite class daily,
and scream  in all their faces,

"*******"

"for once..."
but I don't

I sit,

I bit skin off skinless lips,
hold back tears,

the urge to leave,

take all my insults
that are directed at me,

with a head tilted down fake half smile,

when they should be directed to my film,
but everyday, I do get to say;

*******,

because this year,
I make it to all my classes,

even the next one,

history.
period 11/12

with my dignity

delilah was my only love,
my only escape from this world,
a drive with her was all I needed to take the edge off,
no cigarette or drug could really do the trick,
nothing really worked to clear my head,
but delilah could.

delilah was my best friend,
never lied to me,
never went behind my back,
delilah was like an angel,
used to always help me get home and back,

delilah died.
and I killed her.
someone drove us off the road,
a third of a mile from my house.
and we hit rock bottom,
before we hit the tree.

delilah died,
going under twenty.
fifteen years old,
my first real love,
my first investment to better myself,
ripped from me.

Delilah the victim of accident,
left the world,
with two flat tires,
and a bent licence plate.
we took delilah outback,
and put her out of her misery.

r.i.p. 2001-05/12/2016

you have my heart,
you left,
so,
give it* 
**back.

Googleing your hello poetry name, and typing the word poem's after it,
I only found this out when a friend of mine,
typed in,
Cat Fiske ****,
and my name came up with my hp links
and in the images I was the first three and my **** poem was one of them,
this is kinda funny I hope u all try it.

but example:
Id type:
Cat Fiske Poems

and all my stuff would come up, the more you do the more that shows up in the images and on googles. and your followers pics come up too. I find that cool as well.

and I will absolutely be positive!
even while I stalk your words,
even when there words that make me want to cry,
even when there words that speak of such simple things,
you make them so much more,
even when there words that make other words seem meaningless,
even when you point out the uglyness in our world,
I will chose to only see the beauty,
and love it,
and when people chose not to be kind,
you have to do away with them,
and love the kind souled people,
because there all that are going to matter in this world,

if I am to have,
a son,
or daughter,
who comes out to me as gay,
and sit there crying trying to explain,
what else could I say,
then,
"stop crying",
"you said you where happy",
because acceptance is what people want,
in love,
in life,
and as a parent its your job,
to give it to them.

lie.
everyone lied to you first,
they killed the truth

we had meet because of my school talent show,
I was in 8th grade,
my little brother was an act,
I randomly had sat,
and there you where,
The new boy,
who knew my brother,
because my brother stayed after for all the clubs,
but my brother was in 6th grade,
and I didn't know they only met,
because of,
homework club,

I gave the boy my number,
And added him on Facebook,
Age wise he could of been in mine,
but most likely 7th grade,
I didn't know he was in 6th grade,
and his only friends where my brothers,

I texted him all the time,
and saw him at the end of the day all the time,
and stole his sweatshirts,
and finally one day he kissed me,
and I was so happy,
we went to his locker,
and I relied, he was in the 6th grade wing,
and everything made sense,
we weren't dating,
so I wasn't worried,
but then,

He asked me out,
and I told him sure,
but he had to keep it quite,
the second time he kissed me,
he tried to shove his tongue down my throat,
and I almost gagged,
I was so embarrassed by it,

but eventually my brother found out,
and didn't trust me ever again,
to talk to any of his friends,
and eventually me and the kid broke up,
but I still see him from time to time now.
and he still like to make me gag on his tongue.

**** it up,
**** it in,
hold it all inside,
up in your head,

learning how not a soul wants a thing to do,
with such a problem like you,
so stop crying about it,
if you must,

hold yourself tight,
even lie to yourself about it,
but never ever,
let it all come flowing out,

no one will be around to pick up the broken pieces,
that you shatter in,

so be like a mirror,
and reflect back at them,
there spitting self image
*as they **** it up.

sometimes i regret almost,
most things,
most thoughts
and,
most actions,

but,
my feelings,
are what I regret,
more than anything,
else in the world,

and,
sorry I can't,
fix the damage,
I've done,

to you,
others,
and,
to myself.

hey so I make videos, and look, you all are smart people so who else should try and make a video for this and maybe win $1500! so I am going to do it, you should to, and if you're a finalist you get 200$ they care more bout the audio. visual is not as important, but I feel all poets should be available to this challenge! again AUDIO IS KEY! read the rules! I am planning on entering so even if you're not going to enter, please comment and give me some ideas bc I got equipment (cameras, mics, video crap) and days to film, and it's a class project/ final for me, and I GOT TO PICK IT, I sometimes like my film class x.x but link below!

https://www.projected.com/contests/77-a-song-for-annabel-lee

I wake each day,
not to say,
"try to be happy"

but

I wake each day,
to say,
"try to be less sad?"

and being less sad,
includes,
less steep drops,
on sad days,
when trying to be happy,

and trying to be happy,
consists of less advanced,
but a constant setback.
every sad day,

I just try to find the one good thing,
and think about that,
rather then,
all the bad things,
eating at me all day long.