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Wrote another poem tell me how it is:

A top hits the table,
the forceful first spin sending it into a fearless frenzy
tip to wood gliding intimately against one another
yet after the initial pull
it finds fear in every second later
it may crash down hard against the once supportive table
perhaps to the ground, out of control and losing it all
Now every dizzy moment is spent
anticipating the end
bumping roughly against guiding hands
held up by the wooden table
threatened by the edges
hug onto those corners for dear life sweet spinning top
for any mistake could spell the end