You know my name and claim to know my soul,

That wickedness shows plainly in the face,

Yet wicked parts do not comprise a whole.

There’re secrets hidden in the empty space.

Is it indeed the contents of a heart,

That tell a man if he be damned or saved?

It seems a sharpened wit sets one apart,

When others to hapless hearts have been enslaved.

You see my honest name as just a fraud,

But I will say this to you now in sooth,

That every soul is quite as dark and flawed,

In knowing this, my actions show the truth.

When aiming for a life of good intent,

A life lived in the light seems better spent.