When The Past Was Around

...and more trouble had soon begun

("Willow Tree" lyrics, the third and final part)

--Line--

You and me, born from the same branch and leaves...

After a while, the sobs subsided. Singapore wiped away his tears with the back of his hand. He slowly made his way over to the hammock in the corner of his house and stared at it. The once brightly-coloured fabric, dyed with vibrant red and white, was now worn down. It was fraying and the cloth's hues were faded an yellowed. 

...Wild and free, living here in harmony...

As he collapsed into the worn hammock, the rags beneath them offered little comfort, but the simple act of lying in it brought some relief. The kampong's silence enveloped Singapore, broken only by the occasional sound of a frog's croak from the small pond outside the house.

...Don't you see this is where you want to be...

Singapore closed his eyes and allowed the tears to flow freely once more. 
"I'm sorry," he said to no one in particular. Sorry for what? He swore he heard Malaysia's voice asking him. "I'm sorry... for being so stubborn with you, I kept saying you were the one, and yet, it was my fault. All of it was mine. I'm sorry, Malaysia."

...But when you leave the world is never what it seems...