Cwayons.
Wagsy cwayons,
Gween cwayons,
Puple cwayons,
Blue cwayons,
Lellow cwayons.
Wagsy,
Wagsy,
Cwayons.
I liek cwayons.
Deir cowourfull an pwetty.
Peaple are liek cwayons,
Each one a deffewent cowour,
But deir awe cwayons.

For a very long time
I wasn’t proud to say I was Canadian.
Not to say that I was ashamed
Of the country that I was born in.
But it never really felt
Like Canada was my country,
It felt more like the country
That I happened to be living in.
I went about my life, ignorant
Of what makes my home so special.
But as time went on, I began to learn
About this Canada place.
I learnt about our laws,
Our people, and our history.
I learnt about our lands,
And revelled in their mysteries.
From the edge of the pond,
To the coast of the shimmering Pacific.
Here lies all that is Canadian.
A land of similarities that unite
Instead of differences that split.
Here lives a people of many races
A land of the free
And a land of diversity.
Home of real beer.
Where people put cheese and gravy on french fries
And don't call it weird.
We call it poutine.
Where maple syrup goes with everything.
Where it doesn’t matter if it's 40 above
All the better to get wet.
Or if it's forty below,
Put on a coat
And play in the snow!
A land where love is free,
What do I care what you like in the bedroom?
It doesn't matter to me.
This is a land of majestic mountains,
A place of powerful prairies,
And of forests of towering trees
As far as the eye can see.
This is a country
I'm proud to call home.
My Canada.

Around her neck hung a remarkable cameo,
Of a girl who looked quite like herself.

Carved from the most precious of gems,
Her translucent flesh seemed to glow in the sunlight.
Her features were a shinning example of beauty.
Hair was a challenge, yet each of hers were delicate and precisely cut.
There was not a chip or a crack in her smooth face.
She was surely a masterpiece.

And I could say the same for the cameo.

Last night you came to visit me.
With your freckled skin, and hair ablaze.
And your deep blue eyes, and piercing gaze
That tears me apart at the seams.

I can still taste the salty-sweetness of your pale skin,
As though I had actually caressed it with my tongue.
I can still smell you, that oh-so-sweet scent,
As though I had actually pressed my nose against your neck.

But the only time I can hold you in my arms,
The only time I can be soothed by the rhythm of your heart,
The only time you will ever be mine in reality,
Is in dreams.

I am reminded of the cliché
"It hit me like a freight train."
But honestly, have you ever seen a freight train?
Those things make a **** ton of noise,
They're absolutely ginormous,
And they're not that fast.
You would have to be blind, deaf, and ******* stupid to get hit by one.

So no, the pain doesn't hit like a freight train.
It hits like a avalanche.
You're just sitting there, minding your own business
When suddenly, you begin to feel the thunderous roar.
Before you even realize what's about to happen
You're engulfed in the crippling agony,
keeled over, begging for death.

All this because you wanted some ice cream.

I was just a child when we first met.
You came to me when I was my only company;
But with you there, I was alone no longer.
And then for the first time,
We danced.

From the moment the first shimmering strand of gold
Was spun across the earth that morning,
Until the last tendril of light retreated to the horizon
And the world was enveloped in darkness.
We danced.

Together we danced from dusk 'till dawn.
The only time your hold on me released,
Was but for the warm embrace of sleep.
And then again in the morning,
We danced.

For all these years you stayed with me,
Even after I tried to leave you.
I fought hard, and blood was spilled,
But our wounds healed. And again,
We danced.

Time has passed and things have changed,
I grew up while you stayed the same.
I met someone, his name is Happiness,
And tonight at the ball,
We danced.

I’ll never dance with you again.

The dim flicker of but the brightest of stars
Is all that reaches me here, in my urban prison.

To see the night sky properly,
To see the shimmering arc of the milky way,
The light of four hundred billion suns painted across the sky.

Such a sight would reach not just to me, but into me.
It would reach my soul, and light it with the warmth of the universe.

And there I could be free.