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Rated: E · Poetry · Technology · #2079550
A poem inspired by the frustrations I feel about modern technology (I'm not even old!)

We are the generation who changed.
We were not born to this, yet have been consumed by it.
We lived in a world before the net, before mobile devices, before twitter.
Maybe life was simpler, maybe we endured.
But technology crept in on tapping claws
And we were dragged down the rabbit hole.
For we are the Digital Undead, and we are coming for your children.

As disciples
We give ourselves to these outlets
We show our faces, cry our allegiances, vent our frustrations.
There is not a part of us they don't know
Or cant find out.
We sell ourselves for likes, and advertise for reassurance,
But when we wail in the night, will they be there for us?
Because we are the Digital Undead, and we will take your children.

We are the last generation with memory.
Our veins are spliced with wires, not made from them
Our fingertips are hybridized
And our hearts are flecked with silicon.
We fear being left behind, but yearn for the past
We are the hungry ghosts of times gone by
Never satisfied, yet disgusted at what we have become
But time will march on,
Heralded not by a ticking clock, but by the scraping of metal
As we are buried by Gen Z.
For we are the Digital Undead, and we have your children.
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