I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there's a pair of us -- don't tell!
They'd banish us, you know.

How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!

Why, yes
I'm nobody too.
I do agree
That like a frog
Forced to sing and dance
To an unrelenting bog
That claps today but tomorrow answers with a grimace,
Is the fate
And unlucky Circumstance
Of the unwilling life long mate
Of Fame and chance.
I have never been so glad, its true,
to admit that I, yes, I am nobody too.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Who is Nobody, you ask?
They are the non-existent ones.

I get so tired of being erased.


Debased,
of my (supposed) personhood.

When they say
I can't
possibly be
what I am.

Or
when they say
what I am
is an impossibility.

I am Nobody, who are you?

And when they say
what I am
makes me lesser than-

And
they say
I must not feel,
(or they say I do not)
(or cannot)
(but perhaps it all amounts to the same);
I must play the robot.

[a Nobody with emotions?
How quaint.
You cannot be a Nobody
and truly feel.
You deceive yourself.]

(You cannot be-
You are not-
Your experiences are invalid-
You aren't real.)

But I defy you:
with every breath,
with my very being

The existent non-existent.