Three short lines, and the whole poem hangs on one small trick: the word "No One" changes shape each time it appears. In the first line it is two separate words, in the second it is hyphenated, and in the third it is squeezed into a single word, "Noone." That shift makes "no one" feel less like an absence and more like a character, almost a name, someone who can be right, uncommon, or wrong.
The statements pull against each other. If no one is right, that sounds like a bleak claim that nobody has the truth. But "Noone is Wrong" says the opposite, that nobody is at fault. The middle line, "Uncommon," sits oddly between them, as if being no one is rare, even special. The speaker's feelings are hard to pin down, and I'd say that's the point. The mood is cool, puzzling, and slightly playful, like a riddle that refuses a clear answer and leaves you to decide what "the truth" is.