I flip through the files
Birthdays and likes
Bright oranges and the darkest blacks
Molding myself in each way
To be just what I see
I have no name
No face of my own
I'm just the crying clown
Dark and tall in the shadows
No one seems to know I exist
No one really cares
The others nice to me
But it is just a feigned existence
I am tied to them
Just as they are tied to me
By our pasts.