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 May 2015
Cat Fiske
To look at your reflection in the mirror,
Is not an accurate account of the beauty you hold,

To take the words of Hate people speak,
Is not an accurate account on how beautiful and kind you are.

To take the number on a scale and feel too large or too small,
Is not an accurate account on how to judge your beauty and hearts size,

To look at your arms and see nothing but your imperfections,
Is not an accurate account to show your strength in your beauty.

To look at yourself in the reelection of the widow,
And be happy with what you see,
And to relies nothing but your heart that matters,
Then you have an accurate account to show your,
Beauty,
Strength,
Intelligence,
Perfectness,
Big Heart,
Kindness,
Are all the things that make you beautiful,
And though we all may not be happy about somethings in our lives,
They only add to our beauty,
That shows farther then inside
this is just about how we don't know our own beauty
 May 2015
Cat Fiske
I've taken every ******* test,
To prove to you,
And to every doubtful soul in this building,
That theirs something ******* wrong with me,
But the Coffee black type font,
And egg shell White pages,
As if its been written in stone,
But still,
You all doubt,
Theirs anything at all wrong with me,
but yet you made my wrists bleed..
just my feelings on my situation
 May 2015
Cat Fiske
kiss my pain away
make me feel okay
as i lay on the break of death
for eternity
my blood drips slowly to the floor
as I remove the blade
love has left me once again
but pain, it seems to stay
Just another old poem
 May 2015
Cat Fiske
I hate getting calls and the voice mails that always follow,
like the rainbow after rain.

the only exception was,
to here your long gone voice,
again.

but there was no rainbows
to follow this storm.
35: Talk about things you wish you could stop doing.
 May 2015
Cat Fiske
My love for you,
Causes me to wake every 45 minutes,
I wake up crying because of the things we said,
I remember the time we spent,
And how you thought it could never end,
But it did,

As I knew open my self up to you,
It would,
See,
You saw me naked,
And crying,
And you still said you loved me,

My body is like an army that can barely get up off the ground,
It’s been destroyed and broken so many times,
It’s hard to look at,
And you did,
And kissed all my burns,
All my cuts,
And all my bruises,

And you promised me that you will always love me,
No matter what my skin read,
And I believed that,
And that,
And my soldiers have marcher on for too long,
and they are tired of the battle,

We wish to be done,
you made the mistake,
Your now the cause of these never ending wars,
You have caused me to scar,
just my insomnia at its best, and its due to my PTSD triggers, beds and stuff sometimes don't allow me to sleep, I have to sleep on the floor or recently with my eyes open, to get 45 minutes to two hours a night
 May 2015
Cat Fiske
and you,
hit.
with open fists.
instead of,
closed palms.

and I thought that,
somewhere inside us,
we held love,

but it had gotten misused,
by you,
and love crumbled.

and hope,
for you to stop,
led you to close,

open palms,
into closed ones,
and mutate bruises,
on flesh.

and threw away all hope,
like the key,
to love,
a poem written in ten word  sentences about **** and abuse.
10w
 May 2015
Cat Fiske
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,
Just another things about waking up in a panic attack because of your ptsd
 May 2015
Cat Fiske
A world in black,
and white
That's how we see,
our history
A world if good,
and evil
That's how we see,
people
A world of land,
and sea
That's how we see,
the earth
And a world of dark,
and light
That's the beauty,
in life
And the world we live in is not,
sane
Our world is,
a mess
But things stay,
the same
I see the colors white,
to black
And black,
to white
I see the good in people,
to there evil
And the evil in people,
to there good
I walk on,
the land
And swim in,
the sea
And live when it's light,
to dark
Or dark,
to light
What ever it,
may be
And my world has,
never been
So horrifyingly,
wrong
To bad I'm at the pointwere I'm just a, walking skeleton
I rip the flesh off my lips as I,
bite them
For my nails are,
to short
and hurt to much when I try to bite,
at them
And life,
Goes on
And that's all that you can do,
Live *"Normaly"
Life
 May 2015
Cat Fiske
And tomorrow is Monday,
and I'll still be stuck in this house,
and stuck in that school,
with all those people
who claim,
this and that,
but really just never liked me.
See no one ever likes me,

I'm just going to be used,
for one thing or another,
and that's all I'll ever be good for,
to people,
and I'll eventually get out of here,
and finally be free,
but I bet I'll marry a guy,
who's going to be,
******* degrading,
and abusive,
and still be stuck,
were I am right now.

*** nothing ever ******* changes.
No matter were you go.
So it doesn't matter where I end up.
*** in the end everyone treats me,
like the people,
they consider to be ****,
even though at one point,
or another,
they told me I mattered.

See this is why I can't care anymore.
I just can't keep caring,
about there ****,
*** it's just a game,
everytime and eventually,
there games going to **** me,

and I'll make sure,
someone puts my ashes,
on a high shelf,
so I can't let anyone,
dance on my grave,
but I'll always look,
down on them,
from my shelf.
Because nobody,
is going to completely,
**** with me.
An old poem
 May 2015
Cat Fiske
I talked to her today
not that it did any good
she never would
She never could
Watching her smile
makes me to for a while
but as the depression nears
the smile disappears
dont pull the card
that being a kid isn’t hard
its hard to get up
when you feel so down
the voices in my head
telling me to drop dead
I dont belong
I should be gone
How he and I help eachother out on our bad days
 May 2015
Cat Fiske
I am not a body in the wreckage;
 this is not the part where you
 drive by slowly again and again, 
your speckled egg-shell neck craning
 to see what damage you might have done.


There is no yellow-tape around my heart, 
and they have not outlined my shape in chalk. 
I am not an animal in a cage 
here for your amusement when you
 get bored or lonely or just want
 me to remember that you used to be
 the one who kissed me good night.

I will not pull out my entrails 
so you can see if my heart still
 beats or if it was a job well done.
 I am not the debris at ground zero,
 and there will be no memorial built 
here in honour of what you ruined;
 it wasn’t worth the ash it left behind.
Just something I wrote long ago
 May 2015
Cat Fiske
It didn't start with blades,
It started with panicked hands of third grade,
going into my mouth,
To rip my teeth out,
a mute daughter,
not even wanting her compassionate and loving father,
Just waiting for the day,
To take her pain away,
And see he would be the one to find her body,
at the bottom of the deck she leaped to the ground from,
but she saw and heard his tears,
watched him carry her up the hill,
watched her daddy take her to the hospital,
to be relived to see she had a broken leg,
and to think it was an accident,
and she fell,
the daughter felt well,
but she still had a problem she couldn't fix,
and that was living,
and her mother,
who yelled and yelled,
that was the winter the girl stopped eating,
that was when the hospital became a second home,
the better parent of the divorce,
she got out of school,
for being a wrack,
looked so sick like she was a corps,
she was though,
he mother still hated her,
her daddy still prayed for her,
all because the school let everyone pick on her,
the students,
the teachers,
no one gave her any relief,
and neither parent could seem to get,
that there daughter was getting beat,
but her mother thought the way to deal with things,
was to hit,
and the girl learned that's what happens,
when your bad,
to the people you love,
and all she saw was how she hurt her daddy,
but she thought her mom deserved to get hit too,
because she didn't do anything but argue,
years later the girl got older,
got over these things,
thought things would be better,
she was still hurting herself in so many ways,
she met a boy,
who treated her with nothing but love,
he took her for a walk down her past,
made her want to love him,
like she never could love her parents,
she let him do what ever he said,
he hit her,
sometimes she would hit back,
like she always wanted to do,
but she learned quickly,
it would only make things worse,
to her this was normal,
at home,
with him,
nothing was wrong,
til the day he forced her to be naked,
tricked her,
with his little charm,
made himself seem like he cared,
said things no one ever had,
and then ****** her,
with no care,
no matter how much she cried,
no matter how much she was already crying,
he didn't care,
but she though he did,
she though this is what happens,
and let it,
with out speaking,
like old times,
she eventually left him,
over a fight he had with her in front of her friends,
she didn't figure out what he did was wrong,
what her parents were doing was wrong,
how this all made her personality disorder worse,
how what the school had done was enough,
and this put me over the top,
I broke down,
threw things,
I have never thrown things,
and this person sat there watching me,
freak out,
and I cried,
and cried,
ripping my hair out,
bitting off my whole nails,
and it wasn't Until I grabbed a pen from her desk,
that when she got up,
to call me an ambulance,
and I drew on my arm,
every ones name,
of people who had been doing these things to me,
and I filled both arms,
I took the pen,
and I sliced strait down once on each side,
laid down,
and cried,
til they too me away,
and then when they came to see me in the ER,
I couldn't remember what I had done,
And she showed me,
A security copy of my panic attack,
and I cried,
because that wasn't the me I knew,
and she pronounced,
I was suffering from so very extreme,
Post Traumatic Stress,
Or PTSD,
and I looked at her funny,
because I had never been in war
and she giggled,
almost ****** herself laughing,
and said,
soldiers aren't the only one who get it,
and we can talk more another time,
how i found out about my PTSD and everything that led up to it the caused it,
 May 2015
Cat Fiske
Your soul is like a diamond,
Worth so much,
Because diamonds are actually worthless,
On the outside,

But this diamond is not like the rest of them,
Like the ones that have been hidden,
From the world.

No,
This one,
Is made rare,
Because,

like diamonds,
They bound things of love,
And this one,
Was created from love,
talks about how we find things so valuable when there actually around us, but connects the "rare" beauty to someones soul because everyone's soul is, that was my main point. not the diamonds, the beauty we don't see in our self.
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