England is a complexity,

One I can barely fathom,

I always felt I knew England,

Understood him,

To his core,

But I've barely reached the surface,

Bitter… stubborn old man,

Drinking tea,

Chasing fairies,

An amusing drunk…

He's bitter to cover up the hurt,

A hurt, fragile man,

Cursed with a broken heart,

Haunted by words,

We can never take back,

Disturbed by promises,

Broken in the midst of war,

Broken because he cared,

His smile,

So pure and genuine,

A warm hand extended,

To make up for past mistakes,

Before my time,

I can only really guess,

A pirate,

Brimming with power,

The height of the British Empire,

To prove himself,

A young nation,

Fighting out in the woods,

Whispering to creatures only he could see,

Secrets exchanged through invisible lips,

Disapproving glances from others around,

To grow,

A tiny being,

Raindrops of tears,

Hidden in wide forest green eyes,

Small hands,

Clenched together,

Alone,

The tiny thing,

What would, in time,

Become the mighty British Empire,

Afraid,

Comforted only by the whispers,

Of creatures,

Invisible to everyone,

But him.