Micropoetry Monday: Apocalypse

People became ashes,
buildings turned to dust,
& out of the rubble,
the remains of humanity emerged.
Rather than 2 of everything,
there was but 1 of every vocation,
& mankind began again.

They chose their babies from the AutoMat,
& all that could be wrong was wiped out,
though what was considered wrong,
was simply different.

When everything became automated,
humans had time enough to contemplate & create
even more things that would phase them out.

Creating art, writing with imagination,
& speaking from the heart,
were the skills of the non-automatons,
the year of our NewTech Millennials, 2100.

Their lives were lived through a screen,
& in the mypoic pursuit of chronicling them,
they missed out on what was going on
in their peripherals.

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