I am damaged and desolate. I stand amidst a land of withering, dying trees and although I can see the light that brings the open, thriving forest of greenery to life, I know I will never feel the warmth of that glow on my skin. I stand amidst the thorny vines as they wrap tightly around my body pushing every breathe I cling to, in order, to merely survive out of my body. I can see the drapes of leaves that provide a small cover to find shelter and rest for all those who are weary, but I know I will never lay my head to rest there, on that grassy pillow. I stand amidst the land of turmoil and hatred and long for one soft, small hand to pull me into that safe haven. I see the people there in their giddy land of love and hope and just once I want one hand to extend to my outstretched, longing body. I stand. I stand. I stand. I see. I see. I see.