You are but a stick
With a plate on top
Going around, by will of hand
To keep the thing spinning
Do not beware, of the wind
From the hands, Spinning their plates
Cause they are frail, frailer than yours,
And now can help, by not helping.
Just keep your plate, spinning fast
Until it drops and makes the crack
Or until, your hand aches,
Dont worry it will be dead some day.
But dont forget, that it was you
Who picked the plate, and turned it too.
