They are the ones who follow me. I am the one who follows them. Two nameless monsters with masks for faces and sharp teeth like mine. Two who are unwelcome but stay. Two who wander, abandoned by all others. From the fields they beckon, but most just ignore, and aren't swallowed up whole.

Their hunger is never ending. They sink curved teeth into their victims. They swallow and swallow everything and force their way into your lonely heart and parade about town with your empty skin and steal your name. This is how they live.

Let one remember his memory, and name, both would suffer like birds in a cage, both with eyes teary, down thier broken masks. Steal, steal, steal they whisper while I walk. They gawk. When they are too lonely and too together to take, taking, when I am so empty and against such a world, then it is I who is nameless. When I am withered and gone on this earth. Two, who roamed without birth. Two, who steal and do not forget to steal. Two, who only want a name, and a name.