She is a Happy Person.

The Soldier of Nature

The wind whistles her name
Its whispers soft but sheer.
The trees beckon their soldier forth.
Dauntless.
Strong
and fierce.
The waves wish for the savior,
every ripple cries her name.
The animals stir with frenzy,
eager and insane.
She rises from the soil,
immaculate and alone.
"Our soldier"' the trees murmur,
'To nature she belongs."
Clad in armour of dirt and soil,
a spear that cuts through flesh.
Mastered in the arts of war,
aiming for success.
She rises, shivering cold.
The evil she must shun.
Patient all her life and now
The war has just begun.

One against millions.
Brawl against corruption.
The army of evil, endless attacks.
She fights them one by one.
Her shouts of pain.
Battle cries.
She pierces demons.
And evil dies.
She whimpers in anguish.
Weakened.
Wounded.
Cold.
Stumbling down, to the ground,
she has lost control.
Now she sits and waits,
for the swipe that ends her life.
She thinks, 'I did all I could,
I'd fight until I die'.
The soldier's breath halters.
Her heart ripped out and torn.
The animals howl in sorrow,
The skies cry, as tree's they mourn.
Corruption wins another time,
The soldier has now bled.
She lays there cold and withering
Motionless,
Lifeless,
Dead.