Flush of blood into the face,

Uncomfortable, suffocating,

Like a Ruby Rose,

Or a Snow White,

Ashamed of being caught in a lie.

Pioneers marching outside,

Reflection to a childhood innocence.

Naivety, stupidity, silliness, gullibility.

Spasms of confusion, lost generation, Dynasty, Dirty Dance, Saved by the Bell, Beverly Hills,

All gone into the memories.

Memories are poisonous,

Spit venom like cobras,

Directly at eyes with nearly perfect aim.

And still, clinging to the past seems normal,

As if that would keep one alive,

Fed on souvenirs, echoes of times long gone.

They are gone!

Why would you bother to revive them as fading recollections?

Intruders of peacefulness,

Peaceful modern chaos,

Where nothing lasts longer than minutes of fame.

Kill the trespassers, be a murderer, a hero, a famous block, an influencer.

Impact all the others searching for stardom and popularity.

Be the one,

And stay the one for those splits seconds when you think about nothing else but likes and followers.

Ana Vidosavljevic 

Ana Vidosavljevic from Serbia currently living in Indonesia. She is a teacher, international relations specialist, writer, translator, interpreter, journalist, surfer and motherHer collection of short stories Mermaids will be published by Adelaide Books in September 2019, and a memoir Flower Thieves will be published by the same publishing house in April 2020.


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