'He is so weak!' I used to tell myself and sigh loudly at his unbelievable uselessness.
' Can't you do anything right?' I yelled at him, for too long comforted in the foolish hope I could make a good soldier out of him.
He always responded with that stupid smile of his, no words, only that idiotic grin.
I thought, back then, that he was a coward, only a pathetic excuse for a nation.
A useless, stupid ally that would always be a dead weight upon my shoulders more than anything.
Seriously!
What were my chances to win the war with such an ally?
I was obliged to run to his help at any hour, be it day or night! He was not even able to tie his shoelace by himself!
He got himself into the most ridiculous situations! And I was always the one who had to go and save him!
When I gave him the mission- what did I expect anyway- to take on France, he hasn't been able to go further than 'Menton' ( Which is the first city close to the Italian border)
He was weak! So damn weak!
Or so I believed.
I soon realized the truth, even if I couldn't believe it at first. He wasn't a coward at all. He proved to be very brave when it came to the things he really cared for. He could be very strong too, and I learned it the hard way!
He wasn't a coward, he was just in denial!
The simple truth was that he never wanted to start a war at all, he had wanted peace. I just didn't understand that, but it made a lot of sense at the end.
The flag flags hadn't been a symbol of surrender, but one of peace!
He had never been weak at all: I was the weak one!
It was too late when I realized it, but he had tamed me like I had my dogs! I was at his feet whenever he called, I could have bring down mountains for him, had he asked!
He had invaded my house, my kitchen, my bed, my whole life!
I had let him.
He never could take 'no' for an answer.
I never refused him anything.
He had forced open the heavy doors of my heart.
And there he is now, comfortably nestled inside.
I don't mind.
It feels warm and wonderful.
He had invaded my mind, and my thoughts always go back to him.
With his little painter's hands, he had drawn a smile on my mouth.
He taught me a new thing called happiness.
No one ever did before.
I was only taught to fight, organize things, protect the order!
He had made a mess in my life.
A comfortable mess.
But, even though I am a slave of his eyes, of his smile,
I am grateful for what he did to me.
All I have ever known is war
but, in his arms, I found peace.
Could a soldier ever be happy to surrender?
Yes, I am
and I don't care if others laugh of my fate.
His beautiful laughter is all I can hear.