I am nothing.   
I am nothing.        
       And how can I not be?                
                  I have spent my life,                       
                            all the years of my life,                           
                                       in silent staring                              
                                            through the narrow cracks of the walls,                                       
                                                               that were built around me,                
                  I accepted them as destiny,                  
                      you see,                           
                                  as destiny.   
I never once thought of challenging                           
                                      the fact of them,                        
                                  or breaking through to be free.                                            
                                                                 To be free.   
I never wanted to be free.   
I, rather, relished my misery.   
I gloried in the very fact                          
                               of my serfdom.   
I relished my slavery.   
I must be nothingness then,             
                                 what else could I be?             

                                What else could I be?