I don't know where this came from. I was watching this really good video, Hetalia, History is Now, and next thing I wrote this.
Disclaimer: I own nothing except my own terrible writing.
History.
So many wars, so many deaths.
How could nations consider themselves to be friends when they next day war could be declared?
And they could strike down their friend in the battlefield?
Sometimes forever.
Watching their breathing slow, eyes flutter closed, betrayal glaring at them, wondering how it all went wrong.
Wondering how many more there would be.
And if they dissolved a country, at one point, they would probably have known each other
And that relationship would be ashes.
As the nation that was once a nation disappeared.
And no one grew too close,
Because betrayal was always a minute away.
You turn for a minute too many, and a knife slides into you,
Parting your skin, your cells, your atoms,
Everything that makes up you.
And you wonder why.
And the humans
The friends they only make once,
Before learning the harsh lesson that these fragile
Impossible
Precious beings
Wither and die so fast
That they represent and embody
Their spirits
Feeling what they feel, living like they live
But unable to get close.
Forever bound to their bosses,
Sometimes good rulers, sometimes madmen
Carrying out their plans, just following orders
Sometimes not even knowing
Just a puppet for the masses
And the bosses are harsh
Shouting and hitting and lying
Determined to exert their control over their obedient nation
And when the people,
The ordinary people rise up,
The many against the few,
With a shared cry of,
This isn't right
And
Give us our freedom
And the ones in charge respond with
Why?
Wondering what happened to the little boy
Or when everything slipped out of control.
And the bosses control the nations
And when war is declared
Or people are killed
They ask,
Why aren't you helping
Forgetting the nations are only as good as their people
Adapting to them, with them
Until it is their time to exit the curtain.
Nations live lives.
Controlled.
Long.
Agony-filled.
Future-less lives.
Keeping a smile on their face until it's their time.