Okay, so, this is the first thing I'm uploading since my abrupt abandonment of fanfiction in July of 2011. This is my rebirth, I guess! Though, this poem was actually written on 31 August 2011, so it's considered to be ancient to me. Also, I've forgotten how to interact with this site, so please excuse the random dots between stanzas. It drives me insane that I can't have my blank lines between them!

Aaand of course, I don't own Hetalia.


Behind violet eyes,

his innocence lies,

trying to prevail and save the day;

but under cloudy skies,

no one can hear his cries.

He never meant to be what people say.

.

Behind a little smile,

he's hidden, all the while,

his feelings that he's never dared to show.

'Cause is he really vile?

I know he'd walk a mile

just to be with someone in the snow.

.

Nobody understands

the faucet in his hands;

the vodka, the sunflower that he loves?

Although he oft demands

to conquer other's lands,

his hands are gentle underneath his gloves.

.

His name is Mother Russia,

a true lover of vodka...

"Become one with me, da?"