The Vacuum of Time
Is is funny how life can be nothing?
What you think may turn into something, ends up being a cloud of dust.
Like lust, things come to and fro.
How can we plan for a future so woe?
When we don't know where we'll go?
The stirring of the parenthetical environs swamp up each citizen to a flurry of grays and blacks. The days events spiral in a lesion that never ends with longevity mercilessly not letting the all too dreary days see the world. No, it must keep going to the next day and the next. It is like a vacuum vehemently purifying the manifestations it observes as dirty. Except for the nations that currently occupy this plenum. Their vacuum is more tantalizingly slower guaranteeing them an fallacious immortality. Of course, things may last but never forever.
Life in this century has two mannerisms. The people going through institutions designed to program their minds with knowledge obsolete in the outside. Nations scoff at times to this ritual. There is nothing real in the junctions and taxonomies that spew useless nonsense of how to fix this world. It's not like it ever changes genotype's greed, envy, jealousy, wrath. States know this first-hand. They lived to long actually to acknowledge that their breed may stop fighting, wars may cease to exist, and the "haves" and "have nots" among the countries themselves will no longer be apart of life. But that vacuum is demanding of the poor personifications. It shoves them to behave and submit to intellectual robots being toyed with by society alike. Move here and there. Learn this and hate that. It can only be a coincidence how the robots swirl around after they get soaked up in the wastebasket of the vacuum, preparing to dump the wretched trash into space.
The outside feels ontological. No artificial semi-life to play perfect with. No agenda set up by controllers of the robots. The people of the outside dimensions are still spawns though. Nations know of a promise of free will from the highest of creatures. It's satirical to them to see their own people have the human "soldiers" substantiating what that "will" defines. This avouch was intended for peace but has left only sorrow with its victims. Genus told to work, fight, live, and die for humankind. Sometimes, the command spills over to the personifications. It all feels real but its still a vortex into nothing. After all that time savaging for fulfillment; we expire with nothing. Or at least that's what they say from the succumbed of the space or the heretical king to the little chess pieces that are not deemed worthy.
Maybe that's the scariest thought for humans and nations. Trying to find salvation in life with our empty bodies and finding none in the vacuum that never seems to stop with its impending time.
Author's Note: So this is based off of a story I wrote for an English assignment. It's not exactly the same since I had to change the words and edit to fit Hetalia and to do justice for the story. This is probably a better version of it. ^_^; I hope you like it and don't be afraid to review. Constructive criticism I both like and give!