You, don’t you have the shame, 

Of speaking to me as if I’m not tame, 

The heart of mine can glow love, 

Just as I’m called a cold-blooded shrub.

Yes, I’m the black soul, 

A fiery spirit, 

A cunning mind, 

I write this from my heart,

Which remains my true start.

Yes, I’m mad, perhaps insane, 

I can be full of vain, 

My mind can be a drain, 

But my heart will not complain.

Yes, I love the power,

Completed with my mad grin, 

That is not my true sin:

My heart.

I write this poem, 

As a weak minded person, 

Could it be, could it be, 

That evil so not my true me?

- Narcissa A. Slytherin