as long as they are good, he pretends to be as well

he dashes
to and fro between
the plates
teetering on
small wooden rods
carefully spinning
each one at
just the right speed
to keep them all
perfectly balanced
he is exhausted
but the audience
just watches
at the edge of
their seats
waiting for the
inevitable collapse
signaling a
chain reaction of
shattered plates
but he keeps on
ignoring the sharp
pains down his arm
mistakenly thinking
he is entertaining
the mass longing
for him to fail

he walks on
eggshells trying
to keep everyone
happy no matter
how he feels himself
and the crowd yearns
to stomp on the
porcelain discs
without regard to
the agony he is in
until finally he
is the one to collapse
and still the crowd sits
finally cheering as
the first plate falls


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