“Nobody the dead man & Nobody the living
Nobody is giving in & Nobody is giving
Nobody hears me but just Nobody cares
Nobody fears me but Nobody just stares
Nobody belongs to me & Nobody remains
No Nobody knows nothing
All that remains are remains”

I was sixteen-- No, seventeen
When I first read that poem,
And I had memorized it
And could repeat it at will,
But nobody asked me
What the point was.

I'll let you in on a secret,
I'll let you in on the game:
I was just a child,
And yet I was a face without a name.

And here came the demon in my veins,
From my mother and her mother and
My mother's father's mother,
And it wrapped me in darkness,
It wrapped me in shame,
Why feel a thing,
When life is but a game?

And no, nobody asks you
Nobody wants to
Protect you
When it's dark
And you're alone
And everything bad
Comes out to play,
But people change.

And people change,
And I swear to God it's for the better,
And people will give up on you,
But some will stick around,
See it through,
As long as it means
Some type of happiness with you.

The poem was right,
No nobody knows nothing because nobody knows anything at all,
And all that remains
Will only ever be remains,
But I'd rather be a remainder,
Than a reminder.