I sit on the cliffs of melancholy,
listening as the waves of despair roll in and out.
I hear a scream, a splash,
As someone gives in and jumps,
a knife, a gun, a rope in their hand.
Should I follow?
“I will not give in this day,”
“I will not give in another day,”
So, I stand.
I stand with others who suffer,
Who live with despair,
Who live with a never-ending
Sense of dread.
I will not lay down and die.
I will not commit suicide.