I spent a day sleeping, or at least
covering my face with a blanket.
Then night came around.
And my body ached.
My mind was preoccupied.
I thought of all the ways I could
take my life.
I've tried pills, but I always throw up.
I don't own a gun, but I've
done the research.
But one thing I did do was fashion
a noose, from a blanket that couldn't
cover me. I placed it around my neck,
and thought of where my life was headed, such a joke conceived for
an ill person at their wits end.
Now I lay on my hands, keeping them
from being idle. After I rub my neck.
Waiting for the courage to ignore the
value in the little things.