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Crosses, a century old
To mark names forgotten
And victories remembered.
A land of peace
Built upon dead bodies
Beneath the soil
Whom have blossomed
Into poppies
Which we wear upon our chests.
Lest we forget the sacrifices
Of men and women,
Of soldiers and innocents,
Of heroes and victims,
Marked by crosses.

A poem for Canadian Remembrance Day. The day of memorial falls on November the 11th to mark the day on which World War I ended. We celebrate the achievements and honour the memories of Canadian soldiers on this day, as WWI brought with it the dawn of Canada's military.
I watched as the first was pulled away by someone else,
And my jealousy consumed my heart
Like a field infected by dandelions in the spring.
I watched as the second drifted further and further from me
Gone faster than a cool breeze
By forces bigger than the earth
But it consumed me nevertheless
And now you, the third,
The one I watch so carefully now,
Shall not slip away
Before I have a chance to reach out.

I tread on broken glass
And see the past in its reflection
Thousands of twisted faces
A stranger in every section.
Memories better off forgotten
Cold and distant and blue
Yet the constant in the chaos
Is the blurry, dizzy truth.
I'm the monster
I'm the stranger
In every silver piece,
But the monster
And the stranger
She just isn't me.
Only I could have changed
The reflections that I saw
But what was in those mirrors
Wasn't myself at all.

When I first saw him,
I wished nothing upon him but death.
He is a simple organism, after all, a grotesque one at that.
But who would want to take life from such an innocent, perhaps even kind and gentle-natured being?
One who, despite his place in the world as but a mere, insignificant speck
Trudges onward with his life
Desiring nothing more than food, water, shelter, and the accompaniment of his brethren.
He gleefully treads across the seemingly unending expanse of the tiles upon which he has found himself
Due in part to an open door
And in part to his raw curiosity.
That has caused him to skitter across the floor
Inexplicably dodging the hands of death by my crushing, weighty feet.
All of his time here has been spent in a miserable environment, devoid of food and suitable company
And yet, he, being the cheerful beetle that he is, crawls on his merry way to everywhere and nowhere.
Who would end the existence of such a happy creature?
One of pure optimism and contentment in his seemingly isolated environment.
Thus, the beetle whom I now love so dearly
Will exist mutually with me
In his new accidental home.
Wow, it’s been a while since I posted. Nice to be back with this odd little ode to a tiny insect.

I'm sorry God
If I've let you down,
I know I've done something
To deserve this punishment.
To deserve no friends,
To deserve no happiness,
To deserve no luck,
To deserve it all.
What have I done?
That has made it this way?
Can you tell me why
A being of heaven
Has brought me hell?
What have I done?
Why do I deserve
To be locked in this life
And bruised by the past
And stabbed by the present
And threatened by the future?
What can I do
To please you, God?
So that you shall bring me peace?
What more do I have to give
To get a bit of it back?

I'm sorry, God
If I've let you down,
But you have to let me live.
I know you know not
Of mortal pains and suffering,
But you of all beings
Must know some sympathy.
When can you end this madness?
What more must I achieve
To appease the ultimate puppeteer?
How much more must I sacrifice
To be worthy of your affection?
What must I apologize for
That will allow you to free me
To bail me out
To leave me be
To let me go?
Have you reached your breaking point?
When will such a day arrive?

I'm sorry, God
If I've let you down,
But don't you think
That all of your people,
Including myself,
Deserve a blessing at some point?
Deserve some freedom?
When we know not
Of what we have done?
Oh, God, when will that freedom come
If not in the form of angel wings?

When the one
Turns out to be none,
What do you do
With the leftovers?
That feeling
That they’re still there
That they can start
A love you share.
What do you do
With the feeling
That they’re the one?
I thought I found the one. I was even going to ask him out. You can't ask someone out if he's ***.

Oh yeah, "If I Can't Have You" by Shawn Mendes came out recently. I've been listening to it a lot lately. Kind of funny and ironic that it came at just the right time for me. It's like this was meant to happen all along.
"Everything means nothing if I can't have you"
-Shawn Mendes
I don't miss you.
I miss who I thought I had.
I miss those dreams about you
And what my imagination made you into.
I miss having feelings for you,
But I don't miss you.
If you read my poems, you remember those shades of blue. They’ve all turned to gray.
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