Nobody's Here (Poetry)

I’m the kind of nobody
that everybody knew
would never get to be someone
no matter what I’d do

The chances came and then they went
they all turned out the same
however hard I tried to win
I’d always lose the game

They say it’s how you play that is
the thing that really counts
but when the score is scraping low
unspoken pressure mounts

to win a cup — achieve some goal
and somehow beat the rest
then feel content in one small way
you’ve proved to be the best

No prizes for the might-have-beens
the consolation’s small
for also-rans far down the line
the wistful sigh is all

that lingers in frustration’s wake
the reason all too clear
why no one writes and no one phones —
they know nobody’s here