In the corner my perceptive’s been plaintive,
With Yin and Yang balancing my will to die or live.
My guide’s voice is telling me that I’m transitioning,
Yet I still fear there’s something doleful missing.

My exterior for my friends covers the disconsolate,
Can’t hear me singing songs sounding plangent.
Can somebody with everything sound so forlorn?
I don’t know about you but I’m still glad I was born.

Even if I’m the world’s jester,
I still don’t want to be a pester.
Opening my flames up burnt our bridges,
Learnt from that mistake, avoiding those ledges.

One day if you see this, you should...