Destruction of Beauty

As time slows down, i stop and gaze
I see nothing but a tree standing alone,
free, free from troubles, standing slanted in its green patchy home.
I turn. A bird. A shadow of a cloud begging to open up and cry.
Failing, it floats from view behind the natural clad obstruction we know all to well as a simple bush.
I look at my palm.
Lines of skin stretching, screaming to meet up and create a patternless pattern.
Succeeding it draws an unorthodox "M" on my soft, damp, dirty, worn Armour we know all to well as skin.
I gaze back at the tree. Its unhappy.
it struggles to be more than it is.
A simple green and brown being.
Unhappy it stands, pleading to to us.
Don't hurt me. Your stronger. We Help.
Don't hurt me.
I gaze back at my hand.
What have we done.
What have we achieved.