Tapped Millennial. Catherine Pricone


Tapped Millennial - Catherine Pricone


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      Chapter I: The Last Offline

      The optic nerve in your eye grasps the morning light

      You blink yourself into reality but not quite

      First and foremost, you must scan a small device

      Carefully placed arm's length from your slumber

      Begin judging yourself with a notification number

      Before rehydrating your body or stretching your legs

      Your first moments awake are reading timeline threads

      Compelled to respond and view before starting your day

      Guilty as charged of the millennial way

      Comrades in age

      The very first to take stage

      In the cyber theater

      Enter approval meter

      A virtual leader

      A delusion breeder

      Of a fascinating fixation

      A world of simulation

      Of unfulfilling conversation

      Yet we knew the feeling before it all

      When a phone was merely for a call

      It was strictly bound to a landline

      A melodic memory of a simpler time

      Sun and sweat on our skin took priority

      A machine did not possess ultimate authority

      Children were outside in thick crispy snow

      Curiosity quenched with pathways to grow

      Goosebumps lined our arms like crops on a farm

      No fabricated data to inflict mental harm

      Customary dinner at the kitchen table

      A family ritual and a screen free staple

      Entertainment attained from ideas and imagination

      No mindless clicking needed for mental stimulation

      The youth ran outside and skinned their knees

      They learned from mistakes and were stung by bees

      Muscles contracted, blood flowed and made strength

      Soak in the outdoors where time had no length

      Slapping a film in our face just was not enough

      Dirt, grass and park sand made us all tough

      No chats or highlight reels; no tapping so mindless

      Only credible connection and in-person kindness

      Conversation relied solely on the spoken word

      It was up to our brains to decipher and infer

      No handheld machine to think for ourselves

      Just genuine attention and books lined on shelves

      Society was well accustomed to patience and poise

      Now instant gratification and inappropriate noise

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