• Every year, I grow so much colder,
    Another chip of wisdom, rests on my shoulder.

    My calves are so sore, as well as my knee-caps,
    Carrying weight from forgotten mishaps.

    A burning sensation rests within my thighs,
    You set them ablaze, with your beautiful lies.

    So much, from so little, speaking so clearly,
    My bone structure's brittle, my psyche so weary.

    I calculate everything, being mathematical,
    In a world where you act so impractical.

    That's why it's an act, much like a show,
    Morals and ethics tell me which way to go.

    They're only a guide, while I make the choices,
    You think I'm insane, since I hear all these voices.

    King Arthur of Camelot, or Helen of Troy,
    Countess Foresight and even Malfoy.

    Multiple mentalities, controlling my mind,
    But I'm not afraid of the truth I will find.