Sober, serene, violent and bland,

Unpredictable like a magic wand.

They call it THE Mind,

And I call it, the fickle bitch;

That is never kind.

Like a whore it is,

With changing customers of time and tide.

Lecherous, deceitful and uncanny,

Musing over fantasies of varied kinds,

The mind is nothing,

But a whirlwind.