December 12, 2011
Knifes, trees, pointy corners the
Balloon fears them all like death itself
As it floats and bounces
And gets carried around it
Fears death might be found.

Sharp steal sticks poke
Out of the ground
Scarring the balloon
Scared that he’ll POP!
With a really big sound

But what he fears the most, and
Might not recognize
Is when the child lets go
So he can float
Off into the sky.

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