Don't Talk To Me About Illegal

Encased in this body, can't you tell?
Up here, I am in a shell.
Am I justified?

“Graceful,” say the cool, calm winds.
“Steady,” say his hands.
Serenity within his reach, but she understands.

Balance on.
Years mean nothing in this circ de soleil.

Swaying on a line.
A free fall wouldn't be the best idea.
I'm just an acrobat,
I cannot fly.