I want to be strong. I will crush those in my way and be ready for retaliations.

I am weak. I quietly accept the fault of another without foundations.

My body is hardened, but I am soft.

I touch what I want. My fingers brush against what I previously could not have posssibly reached.

I break what I need. My palms hold the shards of what is always held, the item pleached.

My hands withdraws from yours, with the grace of bear claws.

I want to love. My heart flutters quickly, I look upon the object of my desire.

I am forgotten. She leaves me, leaving my heart entrapped in briar.

My body quivers and the three words I hope for are not what she delivers.

Balance is just.

Balance is fair.

Balance is law.