Nothing. By no one.

Nobody is on the outside. Somebody is on the inside, just waiting to figure out who they've always been, and have yet to become. "Who am I?" I wisper. It can be sad to be alone in a crouded room. I try to speak but I am stuck saying nothing, as I watch the world around me look right through me. They only see a nobody, with no one, and nothing to say. When I wish to be a some one, but not here some where far from these memories of haveing no one. But a wish is a wish and nothing more then that. "What?" He asks. To who am I a some-one to, when every one looks at me like they're not seeing me. Forget every thing said now, for mabey that won't be to hard since no one is listening to the so called nothing i have to say. Who do you think I am right now? Am I the one you hate? Am I the one you think you know? Am I the one you pretend to give a damn about? Am I your best friend? Am I the one ready to break? Is my finger on the trigger? Have you not already pulled it? No matter, you were wrong... i am a nobody in this some-where thinking about the nothing every some-one thinks about me. Well, not me, nobody. I wonder if some-one some-where will even see this. "Nothing." I mutter. Anybody listening .