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[Pixabay](https://pixabay.com/photos/search/many%20plates/)
I am a chaotic juggler who balances daily circus, silence, and endless seeds.
I have a porcelain room sitting in the air, and I turn all the plates with precision and care.
Spinning for work, mercilessly loud,
Another is another for the family who is waiting so proudly for me.
One is from fragile, thin love,
and one for deep, upset pain.
Invoice plate for promises,
sparkly and
for goals where debt has not yet been paid.
Another for a friend I barely can call, and for myself - crushed a while ago.
They glow like stars, they turn like a deceit, delicate dance of this delicate dance beat.
In the world I composed, calm in my face, there is but inside, leading an endless race.
hands are constantly moving, there is no break, break means breaking unwritten law.
Why am I not infinitely strong?
But how much can you dance to this tireless song?
Click Des China, Crake My Rehr,
Performance weight, no finish line.
I smile through the stress and nod through the pain, but I feel that all of this balance is painfully wrong.
Wind whispers, one doubt, and anything that changes can simply crash.
What if I leave some storms?
Will I finally breathe for one day?
Fall the perfect panels on the floor and
wipe out any fears I don't need anymore.
Let go of the guilt under my feet, weigh and what is the fulfillment of failure and peace.
Not all plates need to remain in the sky, and All promises should fly.
Some things fall, so we can handle it - when we let go, we again reduce hope.
So I stand here with poor pain and outdoor plate on the left side.
And maybe, maybe, it's enough to make endless movements against something so rough.