Me and my family have a history of depression....I was lucky enough to win this disorder through genetics....a few years ago I was officially diagnosed and put on Paxil and Trazodone....Suddenly a crushing weight was took off of my shoulders and I became functional again....after the year was up, I was convinced that I didn't really need it anymore...Boy was I wrong....about a year ago I crashed again...was disfunctional for almost a year....finally, I got a job and after seeking advice here on this forum, I got put on Zoloft....and things have been better since.... I have to admit though that I barely survived this year... I wrote the following poem, while at the very bluff that is mentioned in it....If I had that line instead of a pen and paper, I wouldn't have been here forcing you to suffer with my poetry....

Piece of Paper

He stands there in all his natural beauty, gazing down the bluff, staring into the depths of the stagnant pond, imagining the feel of the water, rushing past his body, filling every entrance, every pore, ripping off the paper taped to his breast.

He jumps, knees bending, one two three steps, running, stamping the grass blades back into the womb, gently pushing off the ground with the bottom of his right foot, the air flows past his body, every cell tingling with the excitement of flight, the thrill of the air tugging on the paper taped to his breast.

He lies there, head snuggling with the cliffside, the gentle breezes softly pushing his naked body along the jagged rocks, scraping the green nylon line entwined about his broken neck, and the shattered remnants of a piece of paper taped to his breast ripples with each mournful sigh of god.

Thank you folks....Blessed be.

Amergin