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 jump,

I fall,

I scream.

I wake.

“I will not give in this day,”

I say,

“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 live,

I cry,

I will not lay down and die.

I will not commit suicide.