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Literature Text
A little boy plants a sunflower in his garden.
He waters it every day, and loves to watch it grow.
The sun warms, the air freshens, and the soil nurtures.
Winter comes.
The sunflower withers and dies.
The little boy weeps for the darling tiny corpse.
Next spring, the little boy once again plants his sunflower.
He waters it every day, and loves to watch it grow.
The sun warms, the air freshens, and the soil nurtures.
Winter comes.
The sunflower withers and dies.
The little boy stares down hollowly at the darling tiny corpse.
Next spring, the little boy does not plant his sunflower
Because he knows death is imminent.
Instead, he wanders through the lifeless fields alone.
Winter comes.
The land remains desolate, and no life relieves the bloodshed.
The garden weeps in despair.
He waters it every day, and loves to watch it grow.
The sun warms, the air freshens, and the soil nurtures.
Winter comes.
The sunflower withers and dies.
The little boy weeps for the darling tiny corpse.
Next spring, the little boy once again plants his sunflower.
He waters it every day, and loves to watch it grow.
The sun warms, the air freshens, and the soil nurtures.
Winter comes.
The sunflower withers and dies.
The little boy stares down hollowly at the darling tiny corpse.
Next spring, the little boy does not plant his sunflower
Because he knows death is imminent.
Instead, he wanders through the lifeless fields alone.
Winter comes.
The land remains desolate, and no life relieves the bloodshed.
The garden weeps in despair.
Literature
Poor Little Latvia
Poor Little Latvia....
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The sounds of screams filled the air. Stomach curring and heart breaking at the least. The sound was comming from many rooms away, but no matter how hard the little Latvian wished the sound would become muffled behind the large wooden door that seperated them, it still rang loudly in his ears.
He did not wish voice to be silenced though, just muffled. For if the voice were to completely vanish, he would know that another one of his brothers had been killed. The voice filling the midnight air was no longer strong with another compainon, one of them had passed about three hour
Literature
A little Prussia Russia Drable
He opened his eyes hoping to be somewhere else but after turning around in the bed, feeling a terrible pain in his body, and after seeing the sleeping figure of the Russian beside him he knew that the other night wasn't just one big nightmare, it was real. He sat straight in the bed, trying to ignore the pain, and started to think why he was there, and then he suddenly remembered: The war. Well not the war itself but the result, they lost and he ended up going home with the Russian, only to be sure his brother would be all right. He sighed and got up and, walking in a funny way, he went to the bathroom.
In the meantime, the Russian woke up a
Literature
Snowed In Cpt2 - RussiaxReader
Your senses were beginning to come back, and as you slowly fluttered your eyes open you realized you felt warmth, not the biting cold of the outside air. Your eyes focused on a wooden ceiling, and you blinked in confusion. Where were you?! You sat up, a blanket that was covering you shifting off of your torso and onto your lap. You looked around. You were on a couch, a fire place in front of you, the flickering light spreading warmth to the rest of the room. You started when you heard footsteps, and a large man walked into your vision of range, you whipped your head around and looked at him
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The first of a series of poems briefly recounting parts of the childhoods of the central countries in Axis Powers Hetalia.
Started with Russia because he's my fave and the easiest to write about for some reason ^^
There is a message in the poem--but I'd like to hear what you guys interpret it as!
Started with Russia because he's my fave and the easiest to write about for some reason ^^
There is a message in the poem--but I'd like to hear what you guys interpret it as!
© 2011 - 2024 frostysnowman94
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So, like, this is like all his freinds and how everyone is scared of Russia so he can never keep his freinds?
Sweet poem, btw! I love it!
Sweet poem, btw! I love it!