My highest point
Hanging
Abyss below me
Fence fraying above me
And what I'd do to see it hold
When all I can see is the nails
Come loose

The ground I once stood on
Always shook
For me who thought that the
Sides of the fence were not meant
To be joined
And I who came to stand on it
My zenith
Before the floor stopped shaking
And fell away completely

Balance
Only a necessity for those who
Choose an in-between
Time will always run out
Quicker for those
Who try to hold onto
The flimsy fence that separates
Green grass
From even more green grass
One side gone yellow to the other
And one side uprooted to the other

And the fence
That always stood as wood
Aging in splinters and mold
Is still wood
Until it comes free
It is then scraps
For whichever side chooses
What use it is fit for
Because sticks and stones
Will break bones
But sticks cannot repair
Broken strands of bark
Where blades of grass can mend
In the sun

And the fence that sat there
Performed it's duty
Unstable on stable ground
Stability withdrawn smoothly
Cut when not on grounds
Comes loose

Hanging
Fingers locked in place