I created this as an English assignment. We were told to create a character, and write a dramatic poem about them. This isn't at all in sequential order, or any real order at all.

Please tell me what you think!

My skin is hard, it had protected me,

But now it crumbles, grey and sickly.

I reach my hands to the sky, lift my face to the sun.

The world chills, my hands fall,

And when the world warms again my arms

Brittle and broken, cannot raise my palms.

I dig deep, drink clean water,

But now it tastes bad, poisoned.

The wind blows through my hair,

Sounding like bird's song and smelling of flowers.

Years pass, and I hear only a constant rumble

And smell only smoke.

Rain falls, washes away the dirt and grime.

Then it stings, weathers away at my defenses.

I feel sluggish, weak.

The ground-creatures, insects, birds, and many others all leave.

The world has grown too hot, too noisy.

Yet I still stand here, a lone monument

To a time lost and forgotten,

Penned in by grey concrete.