Beautiful

Oh you beautiful creature.

Where do you hide?

Behind something you want to be.

And for the first time what you want,

And what you feel,

Are world apart.

But holding hands

Is a funny type of forever.

In a childish Ying

And a hopeful Yang.

For it was never your job to move the scales,

But rather to watch them tip,

Guard them

And sometimes let them slip.

For how would we know the world is still working,

If we didn't fall now and again?