Memories
They have a funny way about them
Fragments of our shattered egos
They live,
they feed,
they die.
—Remnants
They toy,
they mess,
they fiddle.
—Invaders
Words
Gone
Opinions
Replaced
Feelings
No notice
Memories
They make for great company
Creeping usurpers of their makers
They change,
mutate,
adapt
—Deviants
They claw,
they gnaw,
they gorge
—Survivors
Aspect
Displaced
Nature
Distorted
Conduct
Baffled
Are you ever — not — alone?
Are those around you — ever— people?
Are they but echoes
crawled out of dying memories?
About the Creator
Sasha Desideri
Philosopher, adventurer, mother, and passionate words-lover
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