I can't be seen

Canada walked down the lonely halls of the building. Everyone had brushed past him. Everyone he tried to talk to ignored him. Why? Because they couldn't see him.

I keep my secrets hidden

Canada, somewhat rather, was holding something in. When possible, he could be a horrible, evil person. It was his own dark secret. It was something that made him feel there. Made him feel noticed. Even if it was only one person that noticed.

There's now a place

That I'm tested by

No matter where he stepped foot, Canada felt that he was always being observed by something. Trying to see if he'd lash out, or keep retreating farther into himself. He didn't like whatever it was, staring him down half the time.

Most of the places

I've gone, I've been


Canada let himself laugh. It was so soft, to anyone nearby that heard, that laugh was just a gust of stray wind from an opened window. Even in his own house, Canada was invisible. His own pet couldn't even remember who he was! He only stuck around, maybe, because Canada fed him.

And feel alone like

A stral

"Always alone, eh?" He asked himself. Recently, he'd felt out of it. In fact, he grinned to himself, he was carrying a Desert Eagle in his coat. Today, he'd be seen by the world. Either before they went down, or he went down.

Even if I lose everything

I need you by my side

"Asshole," Canada hissed. He fingers the gun through his coat. "We were suppose to be on the same side. You were supposed to stay by me!"

But sometimes

I can't be seen

Canada slammed a nearby window, shattering it into tiny pieces that fell to the Earth. "Damn it! Even you can't see me, bastard!"

And keep the truth

A fold

Canada laughed again, now just a little blood lustful after shattering the window. He could smell the coppery scent of the crimson liquid on his bleeding hand. He grinned darkly. "Oh, brother, I'm coming for you!"

But sometimes

The places that I think I can


Are testing my every strength

Canada ran towards the meeting room, eyes full of rage, anger, sorrow, and joy. Rage, over how he's been ignored his whole life. Anger towards his brother. Sorrow at how the day would end, in either his death or theirs. And joy unlike any he'd felt before. Canada, Matthew Williams, was going to be noticed today, one way or another.

Even if I lose everything

Most of the places

I've gone, I've been


"I'm not invisible!" He sang happily as he burst open the doors to the conference room. Everyone turned to look at him. They were shocked to see him. Let alone see him with a madman's grin, singing about how he could now be seen by everyone in the world. "Now, you guys can't ignore me anymore! I can be seen!"

"Matt, you okay?" America asked him.

"I dunno!" He laughed, pulling out his gun and pointing it at his head. His grin grew at their horrified faces. "You tell me, Al!"

"Put the gun down!" France ordered him.

"Thinking, thinking, nope!" Canada laughed. He cocked the gun, and kept pointing it at his temple. "Will you notice me, now that I have a gun to my head! Will you notice me, when my brains are splattered on the walls!"

"Put the gun down!" They all shouted at him. Even Switzerland, and Russia were helpless to stop the deranged nation.

"Why?" He giggled.

And feel alone like

A stral

So when I lose everything

Will you always be there

For me

"Bye bye!" Canada pretended to pull the trigger, making Hungary faint. "You guy'll fall for anything!"

"Mattie!" America yelled, slamming his hands onto the table. "Stop it! You can't kill yourself!"

Canada seemed to regard him for a moment before saying, "Will you be there, at my funeral, brother? Will you stay by my side as they lower me into the ground?…. Will you follow me to Hell?"

Like you always be

There for me

Like you always have

Been there for me

"Matt, I've been by your side for years!" America said, tears falling down his pale cheeks. "You can't leave yet! Look at how strong you are, damn it! You can't leave now!"

"Who'll stop me?" He asked, pressing the Desert Eagle even closer to his skull.

When I've been there

For you

"I was always there, during the wars," He said sadly, looking at France, England, China, and Russia. A crooked grin broke out on his face. "Now, I'll never be there again."

So don't make me

Feel alone

Like a stral

"I feel so alone, so cold, all the time," He mumbled. "Worse than Russia." His grin fell. "Why? Why do I have to be alone? I'm the one who never did anything wrong, so, why me?"

I've been to places

"Goodbye," Canada said one final time. However, instead of giving himself the pleasure of a quick escape, he shot himself in the chest, around his stomach, really. He'd die slowly. For all the years he suffered.

The sound of the shot rang out for a few seconds before America ran over to his brother's slumped body.

"Mattie no!" He cried, tears falling over Matt's face. "Please, say with us, man! Don't go!"

"You can't handle death well," Canada laughed and coughed up blood. "Why do I keep laughing."

"Please, stay," America said. "I'll miss you. Stay with us, Matt."

Gently, America rocked back and forth, his brother's body cradled softly against his chest. Blood was being poured on it, from Canada's clearly fatal wound and mouth.

That I wish I've

Never gone to

"I remember when we went to Paris," Canada whispered lightly to his brother. "I'll never go there again."

"Stay," America whispered back, desperate to keep his brother alive.

"Can't," Canada clutched at the shirt before him, hanging on tightly as his soul, spirit left his body. "Not…."

"Not what?" America asked, shaking him a little.

"Invisible," He smiled. "Alone."

The world feel silent at that moment. America broke it by screaming a deafening, mournful cry. His glasses fell off his face and clinked against themselves as they landed on Canada's still chest. He screamed curses at the corpse, pleas, bargains. Anything he thought would get his brother back. They had to pry him away from Canada's body, so he could be buried properly.

"Damn it!" He cursed again.

Later that day, when they were discussing where to bury him, America spoke for the first time.

"He always wanted to be buried in a maple tree field near our border," He mumbled, holding a thin blanket closer to himself. "He loved it so much. He wanted to be buried there if he ever died. I promised him I would. I won't go back on it. I'm not a damn hero. I… We, we need to let him rest now."

"Everything's going to be fine, America," England sighed, trying to comfort him. It hadn't worked for hours, but at least he would give it another shot.

"I have to bury my brother," America managed to choke out painfully, tears falling down half dried cheeks. "Today. I know where he wanted to be buried."

America grabbed his brother's body, and asked everyone to follow him. Getting into a car, several, they all headed towards a small forest on the American-Canadian border. America headed deep into the woods.

"At this hill," He smiled, now looking at the smiling corpse. "You wanted to be buried here, right, Mattie?"

The nations set to work on burying their fellow. They had no casket. They didn't even have an official tombstone. America managed to find a split boulder and dragged it over to the grave. To keep himself away from it, he carved the stone, to remember his only brother.

"Bye, Matthew," America cried, tears falling down his cheeks again. He now stood alone atop the hill where his brother had been buried. He rubbed the make-shift tombstone affectionately. "Hey, I won't forget you, Mattie. I promise you, I'll come by here every single year on your birthday, and Christmas, and New Year's Day. And, on this day. The day you died. I'll miss ya, Mattie. At least…."

America choked up, nodded to himself and the grave, and left. On the stone, it read in carefully carved words:

Here lies a Nation

Who went by Canada

He was a person left alone in his own world

Always alone, without companions

He was always forgotten like a passing storm

May he forever find peace, where ever he lives now

At least, he'll never be lonely

And now, he's no longer

Invisible to the World

Matthew Williams

Born July 1st, 1867

Died June 11th, 2012

May he be forever seen

I don't own Hetalia. These are song lyrics from a song called Invisible. It was written by my friend Jessica Miller. She's an awesome song writer. I don't know the melody or harmony of this song, so guess. That's what I did.

And no, in the end, this was all a bad dream America had...Can I stop lying now? Sorry for killing Mattie!