lonely puddle on black asphalt
nothing more than a facade.
where is the place from which I
came? Where flowing freely I am
looked upon in wonder. Where
moving machines trample
me not, but kingdoms of life
reside. Where once natural creatures
found delight but now pass me by
without a thought. Empty
as those machines by their hands made
in vein. Where do I belong in
this dying place?
One in seven billion. 
This is great