dog years: Your Business Card Reads: Agent of Death
You think you know me. But I will say that you do not know me, or even about me.
I am a like a mole, or a fire. I am both helpful and hurtful.
(You should read this out loud, and as if you were mad at someone, or something that would never know you are angry: For example, a coffee mug, or perhaps a deaf autistic child.)
I am like a new day, or a ream of type-writer paper.
(You should read this as if you were confident beyond belief, or so cock-strong you felt like you could bend a metal bar.)

You are sure of nothing. Take your brash, head strong ways and empty them out like a lady empties her purse on a restaurant table as she looks for lost car keys.
(I'd suggest a delicate nature when reading this aloud. I am for you, but never against you.)
You want to know me, it's a victimless crime. You are guilty. It's evident in your smile.
(I've told you enough. The rest is for you to find on your own.)