They Roll By Poem by Bianca Free

What is the point of living?
When the weather is fine, and you have friends
And enjoyable work—
Enough to keep you satisfied…
Do you think about it?
Or do you, like me, have to struggle up a meaning
When it seems too hot, or frigid to function
And you've shed layers of camaraderie
And competence.
Sometimes I persuade myself to give up
And shave my head,
Then I climb atop that thirty foot bridge
Looking to the depth below…
Starting to jump.
But then I laugh at what a child I am
And sigh 'Die another day'.
They roll by, a year is gone, another birthday arrives
And though I can't find the point in living
I look in the mirror and…I'm still alive.