Nothing.

A poem.  From the author’s journal.

I rail against the state

in which I am nothing.


I am longing to be something.

But nothing belongs to me.


Nobody can be anything anymore.

Everybody is nothing;

our nothingness is guaranteed.


We look upon anybody that is something with particular mistrust.

They are narcissists.

They alone are Being.


And we, only the echo.

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