• The eyes watch me, mock me even.
    The mocking comes from my nameless face.
    Butterflies fly near crossing my path, trying to advert me from it.
    Trying and not succeeding.
    I may not act as those little children do, but that doesn’t mean I act like those older girls either.

    Just as greenery grass gross, and children eat toast.
    Life comes and goes, like humming birds in your garden.
    Nameless faces are always soon forgotten,
    But even so, names are mixed up, things happen, and nameless faces become your nightmares.

    My killing blue eyes, and pale skin has haunted many dreams.
    People may mock me as I pass them having no name or home.
    Though when night draws near my face flashes like a lightning bolt,
    And soon enough I am your worst nightmare.

    Being unnamed is not a bad thing.
    There are many unnameds like me. My friends, my family, although sometimes I believe they too have been given a name.
    So maybe I am, the only unnamed, but I will surely never be your only nightmare.