In her dream world she longs to stay
So much noise buzzing round inside her head
All the worries never end, all the worries never end...
"No problem" is so easily said
but now, is there any meaning left?
She fails once more, fails once more
After searching for the odd one out in the crowd,
she starts spinning again...
One more time, one more time
"I think I will keep rolling on today too"
And so she says, so she says
Making sure that each of her words is sincere
"Are you okay? No, I'm in a daze
Trying to escape but I just don't see the point.
Maybe I should just stop breathing."
A rolling girl feels she has reached the end,
The colours blend and can't be felt
All these voices are fighting to be heard
They're all merging into one, they're all merging into one
"No problem" is so easily said
but now, those words have no meaning left
and how will I stay on the right path?
Even the hill's tempting me to stray from what's right;
make mistakes I'll regret
Prussia x Child! Reader
Gilbert always seemed like someone who was very popular that everyone knew, some found annoying, and others found attractive. But what they never really knew about the once great kingdom was that he was lonely as he could be. For he would spend his days with either his laptop or his only two friends, no one ever really cared about the person inside, just the shell he was trapped in.
Around this same time a little girl who was no more than four was dropped off at an orphanage by her mother while she slept. The poor child had no idea what she was about to encounter. She was small, frail, and wouldn’t last a day in the rough life of that of an orphan. The child would soon come to know hardships of fighting with other kids, bumps and bruises, and of course sadness of wondering why she was there and if she’s ever going to leave.
After a couple weeks Gilbert went over to the bar when he saw some children playing in the
The world meeting was, as always, incredibly loud and somewhat annoying. Germany had given up hope in getting some sense to the people. Your (e/c) eyes wandered around the room and you couldn't help but feel slightly amused.
In what other meeting would there be a man making pasta, one is sleeping, two are fighting for God-knows-what reasons and everyone else were shouting to get their voice heard.
Though soon you noticed that you weren't the only one amused by this comical scene. Russia, also known as Ivan Braginski, had a small child-like smile on his face. He was completely relaxed, leaning back in his chair, watching as the chaos before him continued to expand.
He must have felt you eyes on him because soon he locked his gaze to you. His small smile widened to something quite creepy looking and you nervously smi
The frost on the ground,
Crisp on a moonlit night.
A young boy's figure
Glides through the streets,
His breath a clouded fog.
Eyes like crystals,
Hair like snow,
He walks with staff in hand.
Alone in the world,
Unseen by all,
He strides like a ghost through the town.
Young children seen
Through a window pane,
Bask in the glow of the hearth.
Unseen goes the boy
Who stares unnoticed and lost
At the joy before his eyes.
A tentative move,
A soft hand to the glass,
Which freezes beneath his touch.
He turns away,
To the dark of the night
And raises his head to the sky.
A tear flows unseen,
Silent and soft,
To be dashed on the frozen earth.
Calling winds forth,
Around him to swirl,
His feet lift off from the ground.
Invisible and alone,
He flies higher until
He melds with the sky and the stars.
"I want to be seen
And I want to be heard."
Only one hears this desperate boy's cry.
The Man in the Moon
Stares down on the scene,
At the lost and forgotten child.