Purely inspired by Deuce's (former member of Hollywood Undead) 'America'
Don't own Hetalia
They wanna see blood,
They wanna see hate
Like a needle in your veins
A sickness with no names
In a world that's insane
Why is America to blame?
When you pray for a change to a God with no face
"Haven't you fucked enough things up?"
"If it wasn't for your fat arse Europe wouldn't be in this condition!"
"For once we agree on something mon ami. Amerique needs to take responsibility for his actions, we were fine until the 'Hero' decided to come and save us."
"I hate to agree but ja. Have you even tried to work on your economy or did you push your work back to make room for your video games?"
"Forget that! You own me money!"
"Da, perhaps you should become one with Mother Russia?"
America never moved, he only stared at the table in front of him, listening to their works. He had never felt so tired…so useless…so hopeless. The burning patriotism that normally rushed through his veins was slowly dying. Not even his own people took pride in the fact that they were Americans; the red, white, and blue faded and washed out beyond recognition.
"What's wrong Yankee? No response? Or are the robotic superheroes going to save us now?"
Years ago, he would have been able to laugh off such a comment, but instead it dug into his skin. Much like the small gold cross, hidden under his dress shirt was at the moment, it was pressed over his heart along with his most current set of dog tags. The cross was old, left from his puritan days, when the only taste of freedom he had was the taste of free religion. Every time he needed guidance, he would hold that cross as if it was his only lifeline and pray. What he would pray for he couldn't remember, his faith dying over the centuries, only returning long enough to ask for a miracle.
"Are you even listening git?"
Miracles, like the strength he was able to find to defend his beliefs, the beliefs that ultimately lead to his birth as a country. Those beliefs that paved his path to exiting isolation and emerging as a world superpower. Miracles that united his country in order to protect their way of living, even if it had also caused a divide within his own mind.
"He's probably day dreaming about how he's a hero."
"Some hero, he's the reason everything goes wrong."
"Fucking hamburger bastard."
America bit his lip, feeling the hot blood roll over his lips and down his chin. He remembered how just decades ago he had broken his Stepford Smile in order to give into his Anarchist Heart. It was the 1950's where the image of the perfect America didn't match the reality of the inner turmoil his people felt. Society had changed to reflect how it really was, giving into the 60's then 70's pausing in the 80's and 90's long enough for the first heroes to step aside and left the anti-heroes take the stage.
"Aw, is little Amerika going to cry? It'll bring me pleasure smile if you do."
"Maybe he's going to do us all a favor and just kill himself."
"Maybe he's finally having a stroke from his strictly hamburger diet."
America closed his eyes, feeling something stirring his blood. His heartbeat beginning to pound in his chest, in time with doomsday clock in his mind. Anger flooding his veins as the clock hit zero, the pieces falling into place. -BAM- The conference table shattered into splinters beneath the blonde's hands as blue eyes snapped open. Every nation fell silent and stared at him in utter shock, many forgetting the unnatural strength the young nation held.
"I've fucking had enough! You can all go fuck yourselves!" America stepped forward, spitting blood for emphasis. "Every single day you blame me for things that I have no control over! It seems you've forgotten that I've saved most of your asses at least once. As well as the fact that we are personifications not the government we represent the people and the peoples' ideals." Another splat as blood hit the carpet. "Do you even remember what the fuck it is that you even stand for?"
There was an eerie silence, many nations looking rather ashamed or rather frightened by the sudden change in America's behavior. "I stand for freedom, basic rights that all humans are entitled to, something I have never forgotten if I had to fight. No matter if it was fighting for myself or others, who even if I was about to collapse I'd still find enough strength to get them out alive."
"We're not saying that we don't appreciate what you've done America-"
"Really? Because that's not what you were saying moments ago, England. So much for our Special Relationship, hun." America snapped, "I'm done. Until you decide to take your own dose of responsibility instead of using me as a scapegoat, I only have two words for whatever you want to put onto my shoulders." America turned away, his blue eyes cold, their sparkle rather sadistic behind Texas's wire frame.
"America! You can't just leave a meeting!"
"Fuck that!" the blonde called back waving off with a one finger salute.
So when they point the finger
You flip one back
And say fuck that