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67 Percent of my Heart
I don't think that I, North Italy, actually have kept any part of my heart for myself.
Thirteen percent went to Grandpa Rome.
Twelve went to my brother, South Italy.
Eight percent went to sweet Hungary.
But the last sixty-seven percent, that went to a very special person; a person I could never forget; somebody who I barely understood, but I loved all the same. That person was the Holy Roman Empire of the German Nation.
He was always so elusive, but I always found myself blushing when I was around him.
I cried for ages when I found out he was dead after the Wars of Religion. I had waited thirty years for him to come back to get me at Austria's house, but Hungary brought me the news and waited while I cried my little heart out.
I grew up after that.
It wasn't until World War I when you found me. I always saw you at the World Meetings, but I never thought anything of it. You were just another country that was around for a long time.
When you fo
Through the FireThe Americans dropped the first atomic bomb on Hiroshima on August 6, 1945.
The Americans dropped the second atomic bomb on Nagasaki on August 9th.
Japan surrendered six days later.
Kiku stood at the window of the hospital in Fukuoka. He could see the smoke rising from the destroyed city of Nagasaki and more tears leaked out of his eyes for all of the lives of the Japanese that were lost during this terrible World War.
Kiku had already called Alfred and surrendered to the allies.
Before, he was sitting in a war meeting with his boss and his top generals. They were trying to figure out how to defeat America, especially after Germany surrendered.
Every country knew about the atomic bomb that America was building, but they never thought that he would use it.
Kiku wasn't feeling one hundred percent ever since the fighting started. Many of his people were dying and that had an effect on him.
No one in the war meeting expected the usually quiet embodiment of
Life is but a DreamWe are just unnourished frail bodies,
overfed with white lies and short-lived-euphorias.
Books filled with black letters,
etching lurid images into our utmost dreams.
Veering us from the big picture...
the one we fail to paint ourselves.
Our fists much too busy with fights,
that we are bound to lose.
Too occupied in line waiting,
for creativity to be let loose like a stray dog.
As if we will find home in this pursuit of happiness...
but we only enclose each other in small rooms
with nothing but old laptops.
How many times I've guessed which letter could it be...
Which letter could it be?
To free us from havoc-stricken-thoughts?
They come and go, unending like 24 hour subway stations.
There's no break for this lonely man,
heaving every breathe of stale air
into my overused lungs...
Living in confined walls of flesh
held up with brittle paper-mache bones.
Which day is it that I will burst out from this cage of a life?
And hover with the Gods found in carefully binded bo
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A two-time Community Volunteer for the deviantART Related category, Anne is well-known as a positive, helpful force. She is the community's resident expert when it comes to CSS (Cascading Style Sheets), and her personal gallery offers a wide variety of tutorials for new and experienced coders alike. In addition, each winter she hosts a calendar project encouraging members to create Journal designs for all to use, bringing more creativity to the community.
It is with immense gratitude that we acknowledge Anne as the recipient of the Deviousness Award for October 2014. Read More