Oh, that sweet seemingly unattainable thing called ‘balance’

Blessed to carry so much, but burdened with tipping the scales

Not the well-rounded person; all arcs and no corners

Every surface smooth and welcoming, pleasently ending where it started

Finding the ‘happy’ medium between fierce and meek

The place where ‘unique’ and ‘familiar’ harmonize

The tension is there, but the retention is not

Something’s always shaking, moving, shifting

No such calibration, so good luck with equilibrium

Senseless shuffling to create stability and symmetry

Merciless pursuit of a faulty fantasy

But I’m mostly arcs with a few corners, smooth and angled