Balance is a trait I’ve yet to embrace,

But I try to balance on a log anyways,

My foot creeps along in a silent track,

All songs hurdled towards my very own back.

Birds fly around, with the breath of love,

How long I have wished to see the white dove,

Who glistens as mighty king of the mountain,

With white feathers who peak out as clear as a fountain.

A dream I have so long wished for this to be true,

While the sky turns to the awful blue,

A dread I have creeps into my belly,

While the moss turns to something rather smelly.

I trip, falling into the fluff on the ground,

Now I know the truth has been bound.

For I have yet to learn how to balance,

Now all I hear is the cricket-filled silence.

A hope that someone will come,

From which direction? I don’t know from,

A shout and a yell, someone’s foot is near;

My face drips with one single hurt tear.

Let them find me,

I will be on a spree,

A full audience here tonight,

Before full twilight.