She sits there crying, not in pain or hate... she cries for the world's pain, as it's soul is slowly destroyed by it's own creations. She can not understand this falacy that is occuring right before her innocent eyes; To her it is incomprehensible. Her tears echoing that of Mother Nature, the crystal drops falling and breaking upon the wooden floor. She looks through her hands and hair, at the wood... the walls... the roof... she is suffocating here, closed in by creations not natural, just an idea and now a possibility. She runs. Runs for the door and slams into it, beating helplessly, wanting to die. She manages to turn the knob and gets out, and runs for miles into the woods. It is her right to be alone, no one denies her this. She falls to the ground, wondering where the world went wrong. Wondering why we must kill anything we see so we may better ourselves. Then she wonders why we kill ourselves. What is war? WHY is war? She calls out for a friend, yet no one hears her. She is invisible, for ninety-nine point nine percent of the world does not care for her. She is one of the few who are trapped, who do not understand how we can hole ourselves up in our little shells, slowly rip the land apart as we construct our houses, hotels, mega-plex monopolies. Her tears would fall, yet none our left. She gave them away to nature, who has too many of her own. She lays on the moist ground, dew soaked. She can hear someone calling her name through the forest, wondering where she went. She does not care. She would lie out here for eternity, if only she knew they wouldn't take that from her too. She looks at the precious plants around her, and begins sobbing again, knowing that someday even this place, HER place will be taken too. Corporate greed is stronger than any voice, she knows. The fog soaks into her and she becomes invisible.. her only wish to be here for ever, and never leave, ever. Another lost soul cries for this world, knowing it to be in vain, but not being able to stop herself from letting them know it hurts so very bad. It kills. She can not leave this place, she would rather rot alive first. So peaceful here... so undeniably peaceful... the stars show through, faintly above the tree-tops. The mist hung so low, she can taste it's freshness and smiles softly. She counts the stars, as she does every night... one.. two... three... and on, until the morning comes, yet this time she does not get up... she falls asleep, invisible in the mist. She shall never leave this place, a guardian to it's beauty. And she was happy.

-Art

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