Italy stood in a dark room. His clothes were torn and stained with blood. Around him, in a circle, were the fallen bodies of his friends. He held his journal close to his chest, with his arms crossed. Slowly, in a low voice, he sang,
"Flower, gleam, and glow,
Let, your power, shine,
Make, the clock, reverse,
Bring back what once, was mine,"
He glanced over at Germany, and tears welled up in his eyes. He looked up at the ceiling to keep himself from crying.
"Heal, what has, been hurt,
Change, the fates, design,
Make the clock reverse,
Bring back what once was mine,
What once...
Was...
Mine."
