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Impressionistic

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These creatures roaming and destroying my very face seem to lack any trace of emotion as they fill my fishbowl with their filth. Desecrate my beautiful forests with their steel-teethed weapons; they look as though they crave my lumber. As they traverse my skin, leaving their footprints all over, I begin to hate these cretins. I’ve hoped for them to become more aware of my existence and to realize their actions. Any action from these beasts to repair me has been futile. I try my best to burn them, drown them and break their bodies against my winds. They never stop reproducing, and they are getting smarter by the day. They are able to predict where my attacks will land. They protect themselves against my hordes of microscopic abominations, holding them back or even killing them off completely. All of my neighbors have it so lucky. Barren and lifeless they sit there and talk to themselves for upon millennia. I feel I will never rid myself of these monstrosities.





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