I saw myself,
Balanced on a razor thin wall of glass,
barefoot and bleeding,
The white chasm stretching down either side of me,
And in my hands,
Were a pair of scales,
With my life in the balance.
One false step and I would fall into the abyss,
One un-calculated move and the balance would tip,
The precarious nature of my hair-trigger scales,
Holding My Mind, My Health, My Heart,
Requiring the most delicate of proportioning,
Only made it more vulnerable.
And in my wake,
A trail of my blood,
Staining the pure glass.