You chuck me around,
When I'm in pain.
I'm as buffeted,
As a weather vane.
You blow me around,
Up and down.
I tell you to cease,
But you just frown.
You send me North,
South West.
East sometimes too,
But its not the best.
I'm just a product,
For external use.
We help each other-
It's a truce.
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