Having a bit of a hard time as of late and just needed to channel it out somewhere and this is what happened next.

[m/n] = male name

[c/n] = country name

Narrator's POV

"Tis the end~ Tis the end~"  A man said with a musical sigh as he stood on a beach on a small island off the shore of a bigger one.  The larger island was a small country known as [c/n].

The people were peaceful, their culture rich and lengthy, and though they mostly kept to their business, they prospered in trade and technology.  It was a rich and futuristic country, yet it still blended in well with nature.

Skyscrapers towered high in the sky, some past the clouds, while nature seemed to be everywhere, from trees to grassy fields, to flowers.  People would dance and sing in the streets, lovers found themselves on the beaches, as friends would go to bars to be merry, children laughed as they ran though the parks and playgrounds.  It was a lovely, lovely country.  No one would say they were ever an enemy of it, and yet...

"Woe, woe, woe is me~  Tis the end of the land you see~"  The man continued to sing as he sighed.  He bent down and grabbed a fist full of sand before straightening up.

"The land that reached for the sky~  All for nay~  For you can see~  Tis the end, tis the end for poor, woeful me~"  He continued to sing in a whimsical sigh, much like a jester or an actor saying their lines.

"Like sands in the sea~  Or dust in the wind~  Thou shall see~  That that is God's fate for poor, woeful me~"  He said, loosening his fingers slightly to let the sand trickle forth, being carried by the wind as one of those massive skyscrapers began to crack and shake a bit.  It soon began to slowly fall in on itself, plumes of dust beginning to appear in the blue sky.

"And so races my mind..."  The man whispered out.  "Tis the end, tis the end for poor, woeful me..."  He finished with a long sigh as he watched from a small, uninhabited island.

"[c/n]!"  Someone cried, making the man turn slightly, glancing behind himself to see a group approach him, running as if their lives depended on it.

"Dude!  We've been looking for you!"  A young man, looking nineteen years old, said as he arrived closer to the older male.

"Aiya!  Are you okay [c/n], aru?"  A slim Chinese man asked, trying to get closer to the man in question, but was stopped by a raised hand as the man stared at him, his eyes practically looking through him as he left the fist of sand go completely.

His eyes then lazily glanced at the other nations who stood a few feet behind the Chinese man, gazing worriedly at this poetic man.  But all they got in return was that same see-through look before he turned back towards the island across the sea.

Just then another level of the skyscraper imploded, as another skyscraper began to crack diagonally, its top half sliding down and falling to the earth, returning to its origin on the ground.

The nations behind the solemn jester gasped in horror, in terror, in despair at the site, all the while the jester sighed slightly.

"Have you divine beings abandoned me~?"  The man mused quietly.  "My once bountiful land has withered~  My lovely sea has no fish~ It sounds like quite the end, for poor, woeful me~"

 "Da, we will provide you food, [c/n],"  A man with a thick Russian accent said, stepping forward, his scarf swaying in the wind.  "No one should go hungry, da?"

"Hai, I wirr share some of my fish with your peopre,"  A mild mannered Japanese man said, placing his hand on his chest.  The older nation glanced back for only a second, still seeing through the two men rather than at them.  He soon enough glanced back at the island.

Another level imploded, spewing more dust.  Another level was cut horizontally and fell to the ground.  Now a plume of dark smoke appeared, a fire evidently coming to life.

Another wave of terror swept through the nations watching the island from behind its personification.

"Now fire blazes through the streets~ And yet you divine beings do not weep~ For not a drop has fallen as you sit in your mighty seats~"  The man continued to say, either to himself or to the ocean before him.  There was a touch of bitterness in his voice as he turned to the sky above him.

"Oh how I tried to leap...  For the skies far above...  And yet I find myself sinking..."  The man whispered out, almost as if into a lover's ear, his voice being carried on the wind.  "No matter how much I beseech...  I still have not a wing..."

"If it is money jou need, zhere are many here villing to give jou a loan,"  A tall, intimidating man spoke out.  Though his face was harsh, his eyes showed nothing but worry and care for the nation whose back was still to him, his head still tilted to towards the sky above.

"And yet, I try to reach thee..."  The man said, reaching his hand slowly towards the sky.  "With the hand belonging to poor, woeful me."

"If it's the sky you want, I'll take you there and to the moon and stars too!"  The young blond from earlier spoke out, a twinkle in his eye.  The older nation simply lowered his hand and glanced over his shoulder at the youth, before returning his eyes to the island.

The skyscraper continued to implode, floor by floor, as the another had pieces sliding off.  The fire was spreading, the sky was darkening with smoke and dust.  Then the tremors began to rock the land, cracks appearing in the ground.

The nations who were watching from the island felt the tremors and felt unsteady, they could only imagine how bad it was on the island.

And yet the man in question stood there and watched, his posture rather unaffected, as if there were no tremors to begin with.

"The ground is shaking... The earth is quaking..."  He murmured out in a low voice as he continued to watch the island.  "The world is fracturing... Will any remain among the living?"

"We will send as much 'elp as needed to rescue zhe people,"  A french man declared.  But the target of his declaration was not listening.

"No help shall come~"  The sad jester continued.  "For you shall see~  There is none left, but poor, woeful me~"  He said, just as a phone buzzed and a British man picked it up, his face going pale.

"T-the people..."  He stammered out.

"Vhat is wrong?"  The intimidating male asked.  The Brit stiffly turned to him, a shadow covering his eyes.

"They're gone..."  He whispered out, getting gasps from the nations as the jester still stood facing the island.

"Aiya!  How could this happen so suddenly, aru?!"  The Chinese man questioned.  The Brit shook his head and looked down.

"They were sick... It was an epidemic... There's no one left on the island..."  He whispered out, yet everyone still heard it as they quietly turned to the man who's back was still to them.

"Tis the edge of nowhere~  The point of no return~"  He said in an almost song-like manner as he kept staring at the island.

Another level imploded, another piece split off and fell to the earth as fire continued to rage in the streets and cracks appeared in the ground.  The sky was no longer seen, for now it was hidden behind smoke and dust.

"No light exists here...  No matter how much I yearn...  None will answer the prayers of poor, woeful me..."  He said solemnly as all the nations stood by.

"Ve~  There's-a always still hope~"  A cheerful voice rung out.  A honey-eyed man came forward from the group, making the poetic man before him glance at him.  "You-a are still here and-a we want to-a help you~!"

The older nation simply turned away and looked back towards the destruction of his island, of himself.

But this didn't deter the cheerful Italian, who began to move forward.

"You-a need a big-a hug and lots of-a pasta~!"  The cheerful young man declared, getting ready to launch into a hug.

"Italy..."  Someone said, but it was too late, the cheerful man jumped forward, intending to hug his elder from behind, and yet...

"Wha-?!"

He found himself instead going through the older nation, as the others watched, their eyes wide as they noticed his body becoming see-through.

He was fading.

He was disappearing.

"Tis the end.  Tis the end."  The man spoke in a firm sounding voice.  "Tis the end of poor, woeful me."

The nations watched and begged the man to stay, but he no longer acknowledged them as he watched the water churn about the large island as the ground shook more.

"T-the island's sinking!"  Someone yelled, all watching in terror as the chaos-consumed island was swallowed slowly by the sea.

The personification himself beginning to flicker before their eyes, several nations weeping or falling to their knees in despair and sadness.

"Tis the end... My long awaited end..."  The man said, no longer speaking in a poetic way.  With a sigh, he turned to the nations who were there, a sad smile on his face.

"Thank you all for being here... In my last moments..."  He said, tears running down his face.

"[c/n]..."

"Please don't-a go!"

"[m/n], it's too soon."

The man shook his head as he continued to smile.

"All things must end... My end is now..."  He said.

Just then a loud sound was heard, drawing everyone's attention to the island behind the man, yet this time, the man didn't turn.

The island had now retreated below the sea level.  There truly was no hope to save the nation now.

"Goodbye... everyone..."  A voice whispered out, carried on the wind as the nations turned to face [c/n], or the place he was previously standing.

All they found was a small mound of sand on the beach on the edge of nowhere.

~Fin~

Here's the poem I wrote for this story as I was writing it.  It's meant to be said in a poetic, lyrical way:

Tis the end~

Tis the end~

Woe, woe, woe is me~

Tis the end of the land you see~

The land that reached for the sky~ 

 All for nay~ 

For you can see~ 

 Tis the end, tis the end for poor, woeful me~

Like sands in the sea~ 

Or dust in the wind~ 

Thou shall see~ 

That that is God's fate for poor, woeful me~

And so my mind races~

Tis the end, tis the end for poor, woeful me~

Have you divine beings abandoned me~?

My once bountiful land has withered~ 

My lovely sea has no fish~ 

It sounds like quite the end, for poor, woeful me~

Now fire blazes through the streets~ 

And yet you divine beings do not weep~ 

For not a drop has fallen as you sit in your mighty seats~

Oh how I tried to leap~

For the skies far above my reach~

And yet I find myself sinking~

No matter how much I beseech~

I still have not a wing~

Yet I still try to reach thee~

With the hand belonging to poor, woeful me~

The ground is shaking~

The earth is quaking~

The world is fracturing~

Will any remain among the living~?

No help shall come~

For you shall see~

There is none left, but poor, woeful me~

Tis the edge of nowhere~

The point of no return~

No light exists here~

No matter how much I yearn~

None will answer the prayers of poor, woeful me~

Tis the end~

Tis the end~

Tis the end, tis the end for poor, woeful me~