There is a lonely dragon in the woods made of steel, wet tears falling down its face as its left to be swallowed by its loneliness.
It wants to be your friend.
You can see the look of misery on its face as it reaches its needy talons towards you, as if you were some person from a far away dream.
Almost as if it was too good to be true.
And as you turned your back on the poor, misunderstood dragon, you too, felt that loneliness it had been provided with for the last hundreds, or maybe thousands, of years.
But you did nothing, just like those before you, and you left without turning back.