I’ll treat you like a number, but not to your face,
‘Cause when push comes to shove, you’re no more than a case;
A number, a letter, a five-digit code,
You may be an outlier, you may be a mode.
But regardless your leverage, you’re part of a trend,
And although your uniqueness you try to defend,
You’re a subject, a datum, a point on the line.
You’re a deviant measure whose error defines
The strength of my model, statistically speaking,
The possibly viable explanation I’m seeking,
For the pattern I see in the points on the plane,
Of which you’re a part, to which you pertain.
So apologies if you’re just a number to me,
A value I enter to calculate p.
But if my study is sound and the data are true,
It might give some insight as to why you are you.
WHY AM I WRITING STATISTICS POETRY
This started from an Omegle conversation, I swear to god.