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The Next Page
October 23, 2016
I took a pen and jotted down
Each way that I could die.
Rows filled up the paper,
Line after line.
I went down the list,
Crossed out the things I've tried.
But all I could see was one blurred word:
Suicide.
My tears marked the page,
I cried and I cried.
Ripping it all up
I knew I had to decide.
So I took a new piece,
The first of an empty book.
I wrote "Live" on the front,
And that became my hook.
© Flynn O., Novato, CA
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