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APH - Snow Storms and VioletCanada is bleach-whiteAPH - Snow Storms and Violet in Free Verse
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Like brittle bones
Or the colour of curdled milk.
He is expressionless:
Forgotten and forgetful,
With violet, sunset clouded eyes,
That are as blank as the Arctic snow
In the lonely expanses
Of his heart.
Canada is young,
But sometimes, he feels
That he has lived too long;
Seen too much.
(He hasn't. He's just overcompensating for the fact
That he hasn't seen enough).
Canada is the purple bruises of steel production
On the skyline of his pretty smile,
And the crushed maple leaves
That emerge, half decomposed,
From the snow in the tentative springtime.
Canada is the anaemic, tired servant
To flags that are not his own.
Shrilly, he sings songs that do not match his heart,
Because if he danced to a melody
Reflective of his personality,
He would have to face his selfish core,
And come to the realization
That he is not a peacekeeper;
Just too afraid to fight.
Canada is a broken child:
A small, ineffective figure,
In a vast, incomprehensible world.
So in the echoing cor
A Holiday From YouFor Christmas,A Holiday From You in Free Verse
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You gave me a cross
With a tortured man nailed to it,
And told me that I was evil,
And I was going to burn in hell.
You said that if I had any decency
I would build my own cross
And use it,
Because I wasn't worth anything to anyone
I told you that Christ probably wasn't born
On Christmas anyway.
For Valentine's Day,
You gave me a blank look,
And said nothing.
I took your silence
And put it inside my chest
Because it's weight reminded me of how it felt
To have a heart,
And other Vital, yet apparently nonessential
You gave me a painted egg
With delicate intricacies
Turning the shell
Into a rainbow that reminded me
Of a gay pride march,
Or an end to the perpetual rain.
But when I cracked the egg open,
It was empty.
You told me that I was greedy,
And that the shell
Was the present.
I said that the hollow egg
Reminded me of us,
And treasured the broken fragments.
For April Fools Day,
You kissed me.
I prayed to have the date wrong.
On the Summer Solst