Slipping from hand
like a citadel of sand
Lack of self-discipline and
dearth of commitment
Its not music or band
neither the fire of foreign land
Nor the sensual hand
momentary slip on tangent
may be hormonal gland
Thoughts become crass and bland
Nowadays it's a trend
unconscious is hell-bent
Truth and conviction tanned
which side of grass should one stand
whatsoever was planned
Always ended as miscreant
A new beginning after every end
Should I let it flow or be resistant
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