With every catious step,
He tip-toes on,
Balanced in carnival perfection.
Agonisingly trapped in life,
Teasing the comforting peace that is death.

And with every one of his
Slow
Careful
Controlled breaths,
He choreographs his advancement,
Purposely placing each step.

With the omnious winds of fate,
Twisting and whirling,
Forcing him forward.
He hopes to find somethig,
On the high wire walk-
Of life
That he will not feel,
In the fall of death.