Earth is like this big, beautiful ball of metal. It's hard and strong. It can deflect bullets, as if shrugging off the day from it's $2,000 Armani suit shoulders. It can reject moons, staying monogamous to one, making Jupiter and Saturn look like a couple of sluts. It rolls and sways in the universes gravity, giving off a blinding shine when the sun hits its side--and even though there are other planets much, much bigger than Earth, it shines so much they are afraid of Earth and how powerful it is.
Then there's people. The rust of this wonderful metal. The once bountiful nutrients, now endangered: The strength of the Earth being siphoned through eager machinery, fueled by depleting resources and greediness.
The shining metal is now slapped with splashes of orange, red and brown layers of rust. Sometimes the rust piles and concentrates in a single area, and the once beautiful metal becomes corroded and weak. It doesn't shine when the sun hits it, the Earth cries. The sun is now harmful to the decayed metal, like a bad sunburn leaving blisters on the skin. The other planets laugh and Saturn and Jupiter relish in the Earth's ruin, groping onto their moonish polygamy more than ever before. Sometimes the weakened Earth can hear them talking over who gets to take the Earth's moon when it finally rusts to nothing. The Earths moon mourns in silence.
The shining metal creaks and weathers away, being forced to give up its vanity, pride, and health...all the while, the rust grows and expands. The reach of the rust is unmarked and viral. Soon, the metal will no longer be visible, and the red, oranges, and browns of rust will dominate the once powerful metal that was Earth.
