Inspired by Jay Chou's 超人不会飞 (Superman can't fly)
Link: h t t p : / / www. youtube. com/ watch? v= D- GgGjOprwE & feature = fvst (delete the spaces)
English Translation: h t t p : / / ranwada. blogspot. com/ 2010 / 04/ chao-ren-bu-hui-fei-superman-cant-fly _ 26. Html (Delete the spaces… Traslation kinda sucks but there's nothing we can find…)
Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia or Jay Chou's awesomeness :).
I'm the hero
Heroes are supposed to help people. They're supposed to save people. Everyone should love them.
I'm the hero.
I was just trying to help. They were in danger. What could I do? I was just doing my job. So why did things have to turn out like this?
My mother told me: heroes can fly. Superman flies around in his fancy cape, saving damsels in distress. Everyone loves him. My mother told me, America, you are a hero.
I can fly. I'm Superman. I can see the whole world in the air. I can see everyone, everything, in the air. I can help. I do help. So why do they have to hate me?
Why? They're wrong. I know they're wrong! The people must be free, to be able to do whatever they want without having the though of them dying out in the streets. I was just helping the people! Try to understand, please. I was simply being the hero. I was helping, rescuing. It was for your own good.
I'm running around the world saving them. It's tiring, you know, having to manage the whole world by myself, with no help from any friends… My muscles ache from all of it, all that running around, but I still do it. They should be grateful. Grateful for my efforts, for my help, all of it. Why did they have to turn on me, wage war against me, murder my people? Why did this all have to happen?
I hate them. They don't understand what it takes to be a hero.
Vietnam
As a soldier and a hero, I'm supposed to stand up for my and my people's beliefs. So I did that, and now I'm in a never-ending war against all of my friends. Why did it have to end up like this?
I don't want to fight.
Vietnam – Easterside Offensive
I thought that it would be a peaceful Easter this year. But the commander told us to go to the battlefront. As we marched on, I was thinking about all the innocent lives I had destroyed, all the families I had left without their fathers, just for a corrupt government that can't do anything but declare war on other nations. I really just want to put up the white flag, but heroes don't surrender. Heroes are courageous, and would rather die than betray their country. I've been a cold-blooded murderer for the past few years, and heroes are supposed to bring justice to the world, not chaos. I do not think, that I really, have what it takes to be a hero anymore. But heroes will never give up, no matter what the circumstances. So I won't give up…
Superman can fly.
Heroes can fly.
I can soar in the sky, like an eagle, swooping down as the predator of the heavens. Or I could be the lonely, disappointing pigeon, waiting to be fed, or to be eaten. Which one am I?
Heroes can't cry. Why would they? That'd just be showing weakness, and heroes don't have weaknesses. Therefore, heroes don't cry. Weeping heroes? Ha. Ridiculous.
I watched as the things that I helped build were destroyed by my own hands.
I watched as my people fell in waves, their unseeing eyes staring into my empty ones. Everything lost its color. Everything was gray… dull, unfeeling. There was only blood… a deep crimson in the sea of gray. I'm choking on it. I'm drowning in it.
I watched as the world that I tried so hard to save, the people that I tried so hard to help, crumbled around my ears.
England watched concerned as America walked into the conference room. The grin that was usually glued onto his face was not seen. There wasn't even a frown, a spark, a… anything. Other nations seemed to notice this unusual behavior, and they watched as England went up to him and confronted him.
"What's the matter? You look so down today." America didn't reply.
"C'mon… Why are you so depressed?" America didn't reply.
"Talk to me…" America looked up at the older nation.
Heroes can fly.
But you know… America
You can't.
You cannot fly. You cannot soar.
Children who think they can fly will only end up breaking things.
"America, please. You can't keep this in for much longer." Those blue eyes, usually vibrant and full of life, were now dull. Gray. Lifeless.
The eyes are a reflection of the soul.
America, you are a broken soul.
In your plight for heroism,
You have broken all that is dear to you.
You are not a hero.
"America, say something! Laugh, be angry, shout out at the world, cry and bawl if you must! Just… do something. Please…"
"I… I can't."
Because heroes don't cry.
A single tear fell from his eyes.
Written by Bluebird99 and Candied Sweets.
May be rewritten and republished on Candied Sweets xD's account. Maybe.