I am thought-tinkerer, word-spinner, and dream-weaver.
I am storyteller, lie-carpenter, and truth-giver.
I sit here, day to day, working my word-loom.
I practice my craft, with the greatest tact, from dusk till dawn till noon.
And through this fabric, a rich and colorful menagerie.
A baffling and beautiful bunch of characters for to see.
A thief giving a gift to his king and a hatter that dabbles in philosophy.
A king, a queen, and his wife, a dead soul walking, and a journal all for me.
My masters are Plato and Aristotle, Cicero and Marcus Aurelius.
My teachers are Homer, Virgil, Shakespeare, and Voltaire. Good god I’m pretentious.
I am a philosopher, the Prince of Poets. Or, rather, I would be.
It seems to me that the world wishes to conspire against my dream and me.