A Sunflower (Tone)

Drought. The hot, dry air of the drought withered the lifeless plant. It struggled to get up, but drought pushed it back down to the ground. No water, no food, no life for the poor sunflower. Death awaits. No one cared. No one tried. No one seemed to want to help. Sunflowers are dying by the drought, one by one, and it was afraid of being next. It valued life so much. It didn't care about how tall it would be, or how it's beauty would catch a toddler's eye, but life was the most important thing. It wanted to live and be different. The sunflower thought of water. Only if the drought ended right now. Then came a thunderstorm. The dark, howling wind  of the thunderstorm blows as it tries to pull the thin, green stem. Weeping, the yellow-petaled sunflower tries to hold on. The wind slowly calms down. Haven't been fed, never drunk water since two weeks ago. The stem was almost half-torn. "Nothing's fine, I'm torn." It withered lifelessly. It fell to the ground, its eyes searching for any source of fresh, clean water. There hasn't been any rain, but there has been forceful winds. Only if the drought would end, but there would be one week left of drought. The sunflower slowly closed its eyes, and slowly opened it again. Air was escaping, and it tried to hold on. Please. Debilitated, it slowly closed its eyes, gasped for air, failed, and died.