Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
183
The ticktock of time,
play the passing of currents,
waves are in my head.
182
Like little droplets,
delivered the blazing heat,
I'm proper beading.
181
A distant drum beat,
gathers my mortality.
I become undone.
180
We don't need our jobs,
Make way fit automation,
We'll still contribute.
179
Here is the future,
All services and products
Are automated.
178
Everything is free,
Because we've outgrown money,
We pay for nothing.
177
Our community,
We live by our creations,
Reaping what we sew.
Next page