Anti-Cupid

Enter Zellers, and to my surprise what do I see?
Valentines, blaring their annoying slogans all over the store.
‘Be Mine, Sweety Pie!’
Oh, yuck, how corny is that?
No one says that crap anymore.
It’s almost as bad as my mother’s cooking.

Keep looking, but I can’t get past the pink,
The red,
And that god-awful sparkling glitter.
Who, in honest pose, has enough time to put this all up?
Perhaps it was Clifford, that giant red dog we all know,
That came to this store,
And vomited candy-hearts and loving cards all over the shelves.

Or maybe Cupid had gone emo, like those kids up on the block,
And used his own arrow to bleed himself,
Staining the ceilings, floors, and walls
Such an irritable cardinal red.

And how sick is it to see that these people all around
Celebrate the death of a priest,
None the less one who married couples
Illegally?
Pathetic, one must say, that such a holiday exists.
How low has humanity sunk?

A pity, to say, that we are still like our ancestors,
Hoarding over items stained with blood,
Whether it be from a buffalo
Or from the fingers of a five year old slave.