Tara the impostor

Fame, fame, fatal fame

It can play hideous tricks on the brain

Still I'd rather be famous, than righteous and holy

Any day, any day, any day

There is a humiliating feeling that comes from thinking you're not very smart.

Tara took a look into the mirror. Her light, peach-colored skin glowed in the sunshine. Her eyes were bluer than robin's eggs. Her lips red as iron-rich blood. Her hair fair and yellow as the ripe barley on an autumn day.

Am I not one of a kind? A snowflake?

That day Tara decided to create a Social Media account. She shared pictures of her face and her thoughts on matters of all kinds. She received applaud, appreciation and a great deal of followers.

Her thoughts were shallow, she simply repeated words previously spoken by others.

There was nothing she shared that was of true value but there was nothing the world expected. The world was simply satisfied with rubbish.

All those people, all those lives, where are they now?

With-a loves and hates and passions just like mine

They were born, and then they lived, and then they died

Seems so unfair, I want to cry