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Akemi Aug 2013
Mercy hollows herself out
To float above the sky itself
11:38pm, August 15th 2013

Oh, the things we'd do to be noticed . . .
Akemi Oct 2013
This sore saviour keeps a straight-faced stare
Lips pressed tight, tongue wedged in teeth
While watching indolence twist in haste
To reach the next refuge

Revulsion that we two symbols share
That same motion-sickness fear
One of action, the other of consequence
Or lack thereof; without / within
12:16am, October 5th 2013

People are so selfish and childish. I thought if I went to uni I would finally find others who were motivated, driven; who wanted to change the world, fix it; but I just see the same directionless children that we were meant to have left behind after high school. Maybe I've just become jaded . . .
or maybe most people never truly change. Maybe they truly do want to stay ignorant, to everything but their immediate surroundings. I just get so angry and so heartbroken, that even if people know their actions indirectly harm others, they won't care as long as it doesn't harm them. They think the lack of a direct connection lessens their own involvement. Or they think it's a part of life--that some suffer, and since we are not those people we should make the most of what we have.
No. Life is about happiness, but that does NOT mean just your own. If I'm going to be anything in life, I want to know I've increased more than my own happiness. More than the happiness of those in my immediate surroundings.
I just don't know how to change people's perspectives. I feel like my words will have no effect. Dismissed as another activist, freeloader; outgrouped and stereotyped without another thought. As much as activists are derided for being more emotional than rational, I see few of those critics giving rational responses. Once I hated people, then I tried to change them; now, I don't know what to do.
Akemi May 2013
Oh, sweet calico
You flittered and you fluttered
Before the cruel men
Pinned your wings, and held you
Under
Examining, every colour
And stripe, on your surface
Comparing, every pattern
You made
To a control they deemed
Ordinary
Their tongues were as rough
As their calloused hands
Yet their minds were like sharp knives
Or scalpels
Dissecting your
Entirety
Three green dots
You were marked with, before they placed you
Into a four by four
Box
And promptly
Forgotten about
2:36pm, May 15th 2013

Funny, how we can completely define someone, or something, and yet not know a single thing about them / it.

— The End —