I stand in the field of flowers, staring up at the orange moon. I am, but a person filled with sin. I am not evil, nor am I good. I am everything and nothing all at once. I reach my hand up towards the stars, and although I know I can never be great enough to reach them, I still try. Hopeful. Always. The wind blows the petals off the flowers. A mixture of colors like a painting all around me. Life blurred, and nature ever so perfectly imperfect. How I wish I could be like Mother Nature. So elegant in her violence. I say my last goodbye to the moon before I gather my things and leave. I can hear Mother Nature's whispers all around me. I grace my hands softly against the tall blades of grass as I walk. How soft they are on my ragged fingertips. From a distance, you'd think I had pretty hands. My nails are long and my hands are small. But if you look close enough, you'd see the red skin all around from my excessive picking. The cracks in my nails from constant breaking. I'm so weak. Like a starved animal, so easy to defeat. One wrong move and the fragile house of cards I am comes crumbling down. Even my hair, once long and beautiful, is now short and choppy. The tips all split and messy.