I just can’t help noticing
So many poets
With splits hearts
The hearts that cries out for help
Yet I’ve noticed
The silent sounds
From the comments
The words you’ve  never said
Not a sound is heard
As they’re desperately crying for help
Their tears are falling for us
Their words crying ink
To be touched and set free
we must open our eyes
To their writings for it has a tale to tell
A glimpse of the roller-coaster of emotions
going on through the poets lives
But many go unnoticed
So I prayed
We can noticed their cries
And shield them from dangers unaware
And try to see yourself through the poets minds
Sometimes I ask myself
Are they truly In need of help
Or Is it just writings
And since I don’t have the answer
You don’t know the answer
We must and should
Reached out
Yes it is true
It’s not  our profession
But it is also true that
We are all God’s creatures
And the great book says
help those who cannot
Help themselves
So next time you
And you and you
Notice a writer
Crying out for help through their ink
It won’t hurt to send
them a few words
of encouragement
A few words of hope
Or maybe just a good morning
Sometimes goes a long way
let them know
Life is precious
It has its ups and downs
But it always gets better
As I expressed
It wasn’t long ago
When a phone call saved my life
Maybe you’re the last word
the poet is waiting on
Before they’ve reach a dead end
It’s too late

She twirls around the room
in a silky blue dress.
As if she were a ballerina
in a wooden music box.
Preforming the melody
inside her heart.
As the bewitching moonlight
shines upon her
making her as bright as the sun.
It reflects on her chestnut hair
that gently caresses her shoulders.
So blinding
but leaving you with the feeling of wanting more.
She smiles so brightly
that it warms the room.
Melting all the walls
you once put up.
As if she were a magician.
As if she could read your mind.
She whispers under her breath
so low that you cant hear.
You try to read her lips.
Cherry colored lips
They mouthed the words
you wanted to hear the most.
But before you could figure out the last word.
You wake up
and realized
It was all just a dream.
Just a beautiful dream.

I'm a human
Not a door stop
Not a object
Not a *** object

So why do I feel just like that
Arnt I suppose to feel
Arnt I suppose to live
This so call life
Is just an empty hole
With a door to far out of reach
Darkness is becoming overwhelming
As I cry
In the corner
Wanting to run
But no strength to move
Is it time to let the darkness
Take over ....