I stand in line and take deep breaths,
and try to calm my fears;
It's time for the Sorting Ceremony,
and this is my first year.
I don't know where I belong,
I don't know what I'm made of,
But being put on Slytherin
is what I'm most afraid of.
I fear the house of Slytherin,
and all of the Dark Arts.
I'd like to be a Ravenclaw,
but I may not have the smarts.
I'm also fine with Hufflepuff,
they're loyal, sweet, and kind.
I also admire Gryffindor,
for they are brave of heart and mind.
It's nearly my turn and I still don't know
who I'm suppose to be.
But perhaps that good ol' Sorting Hat
knows my identity.