by Micah Wascher
I feel rejection and I feel small,
My heart breaks as they dismiss it all.
I try my best to measure up,
But the p-value says I'm not enough.
They cast me out, they turn away,
Yet there's something I have to say:
Someone lingered in the test unseen—
A Type I Error, she fled the scene.
She gave them hope, left me none,
Yet in the end, neither of us won.
They chose the alternate, deemed it right,
Then built a wall, locking me from sight.
Two conclusions, side by side,
But it’s my heart that was cast aside.
Breaking down as researches pull,
This is me—I am the null.