This isn't a poem, just a letter for anyone who cares of the poetess Nicole dawn... Whether you know her or not, she wrote a simple poem yet saddening titled- ( goodbye) all the poem said is " I'm done" ... So for any one who has read this please try messaging her, and support her.. There's another poet, human being. And more importantly a soul's life on the line.. And I see this daily.. Not just with miss dawn but with so many other poet's, who aren't just writing what other poet's consider "depressing poetry". Simply its a suicide note.. Yet others didn't seem to know this. And others may see poems like that daily.. But instead of skipping the poem, remember half of you who were down and out and lonely at one time , and maby suicide even crossed your mind. Wouldn't you want someone there? Some may say no, only due to the fact misery speaks that to one, and demons are good at tempting people to not want to live anymore, though fact is even those that say no I wouldn't want help, NONSENSE!!! we're all soul's, we cry out. We laugh, we love, many cry, some hurt. Some are tortured by very real demons ( not just something in ones head or in stories ) this is reality what's going on.. So instead of passing the next poem you read saying ( goodbye) how about messaging the person saying that, and put aside your issues for the day, and give your self to another.. And your time to them for one second, love is the answer. Not selfishness, not wantonness, not greed. Or all about us. It's about that person's poem you read ( goodbye) the soul you passed by. The poet, a poet like you. That you passed by.... Please give Nicole dawns poem a look. And message her. Because surely, any dying soul would respect and maby still be alive from your message... Thanks for reading, and btw, God wants us to help another, listen to another,love another... Not ****** another with words, or hatred, or envying, or back talking. We can choose to help another, which helps your soul, or we can burden our own souls, and turn away from another soul, that could be you...

God bless,
Brandon Nagley

I cannot for the life of me
See my way through
This fatigue

My mind shifts uncomfortably
Unable to maintain
Any focus

My drive is demolished
How many days lost
With nothing accomplished

Bags overcome my eyes
I can’t easily stay awake
But my thoughts are diminished

Speech stumbles
Words slur
I wonder when wakefulness
Will shine again
When clarity will inspire me

The exhaustion runs so deep
That my skin is aged with it
All time delays for it
Slowing to less than a snail’s pace

Even after hours of slumber
There is a soul weariness
That clutches the very core of me
And I wonder if I will ever be me
Again

Iddy Biddy Bopping Boy
Dancing by age of three.
Dancing for the feel of joy,
What a happy sight to see.
Jigging, jogging, boogywoog
Like folks six times his age.
Iddy Biddy Bopping Boy
He became the local rage.

As soon as music played
His feet began to move
The rest of his tiny body
Bounced with the groove.
He’d get that happy look, then
He’d slip and slide and wiggle
And anyone around him would
Smile and then begin to giggle.

He was so young to do it
To have a style this cool
But nobody ever argued
They’d be a purentee fool.
The Iddy Biddy Bopping Boy
Was cool and smooth and clean.
He was the dude, the man;
The pint-sized dancing machine.

Iddy Biddy Bopping Boy
Dancing by age of three.
Dancing for the feel of joy,
What a happy sight to see.
Jigging, jogging, boogywoog
Like folks six times his age.
Iddy Biddy Bopping Boy
Becoming all the rage.

.
There is a heaven in the low gardens—
A brighter way among those who will toil,
And deepest music wafts above and below,
The songs in bird are like the colours in flower,
In green alms of tendril arms so aimed to disarm,
Are petals of flag, wings wanding, reign of pollens,
Flowers loud, entreating as birds calm— release us
And always, beams of sun shower those with light,
Many who come are want to linger— everlasting,
The heart is there— on wing with soul learning.

The bells tolled in silent air, no mummers
Where uttered in haste as white cloth over
Black draped upon their figures.

On the desecrated reminisce of ash petals
That grow in this place each is picked with
Elegance so not to fracture there fragility.

A new one Is found to replace those that
Unveiled their voices on solemn oaths to words
Never to be uttered, they surrendered it t air.

Voices of blood echoed on the floor, a chastity
Forsaken and white cloth drank upon the wine
Till it had its fill, then voiced its intent in puddles.

The shaded leaf was gently dissected between fingers
And where lips blessed word, the ash sealed them with
The twine of dead embers, and they screamed silently.

Silken coverings where bestowed on the vacant realms
Of purities, in the convent of silence where the dead
Don't speak and muteness is a sound only heard.

If I offer compassion to those that hate me, what will it accomplish? If I find the hopeless and give them kindness, what will that achieve? To give of myself and my wealth to those that have nothing, will it change a thing? If you believe in nothing then the answer is no, but if you believe in something, then yes there will be a gain. For mercy begets other kindness, though you may not see it. Though the one to whom you are merciful may not be grateful, the act of being merciful is seen by others. When your actions makes another rethink their actions and deliberate what they believe. Then a change can begin to take hold. Evil can be undone from with in. A cruel ideology can be reevaluated. One lowly person can accept your actions as a different way to live. Thus a repeating of what you have done, is what mercy shall gain.

I do what I do for me first
To calm the crazy hurt
To still the raging waves
Of constant pain
Foaming water frothing mouth
Softens the harsh blows
That beat upon the shores of my mind

If I offer you bread instead of a bullet, will we begin to talk? If I accept that your beliefs are different from my own, can we begin to understand one another? If I come to your aid without seeking to change who you are, will we then have peace? Standing across from another person half a world away, it is often difficult to see eye to eye. While one set of values governs our thoughts, another path has influenced a different way of life. In order for us to get along, we must first find common ground. Only then can we plant the seeds of hope and peace.