I am bald, with sad brown eyes, and small nose,
I walk with a slow, deliberate gait,
I stand often in a reflective pose,
and talk as if to be hit is my fate.

I am short, plump, physically agile,
I hum absently strains of buried tune,
I spit often to vent anger vengeful,
and treat others as if they will leave soon.

I am deaf in one ear and to complaints,
I speak broken French with a French accent,
I sleep often lightly with set constraints,
and give a look that hides my true intent.

There is this which has been bequeathed to me,
what of that which wills what I truly be?