Dead.
I'm sure you're fond of winter. When the crisp season of Fall abruptly cuts to an end, and quickly the dark, gray clouds in the heavens above form over our heads, letting a white, soft mass of perfectly frozen snowflakes ease off of their nonexistent shoulders. This snow can vary, from soft, gentle, and delicate, creating but a thin layer of pure white on top of the cold ground, to harsh, unmerciful storms of furious cold and wind, throwing the unwilling snow in every which direction.
But, alas, it seems as though us feeble humans have forgotten about what becomes trapped underneath the sparkling, crystalline precipitation every season. What remains living of the frozen ground, cut off and deafened to the world above. What is left to fender off underneath the blistering blanket of ice. The living, breathing creature that we all neglect as unimportant, who we couldn't care less about.
Grass.
It may seem silly, but put yourself in that situation. Would living exposed to the winter cold and snow be an enjoyable experience? Most people think that these small blades of green can't feel it, or they've "fallen asleep for the winter". That is nonsense. It is scientifically proven that these poor plants stay conscious for every second of the day. Although they do not function physically or emotionally like we do, they are still technically alive.
Who knows, those herbaceous plants may be silently mourning when the first winter breeze comes upon them, how they dread the day of the first snowfall that will tragically torture them to the brink of death.
Sometimes, after the harsh winds of winter have finished and gone away and spring abundantly thaws the earth with warmth and rain, you see light brown patches of grass on the lawn. Those are the grass that weren't able to survive the deadly, evil cold and have suffered to the point of death. We merely ignore this, and only care about the looks of the lawn, and how ugly it now appears after winter has taken its toll.
We are selfish, disgusting creatures, who care nothing about the lives of other beings. Things we think aren't correct, that aren't perfect in our minds, no longer have meaning to us. Things that we don't describe as "cute", we push off into the dust. We must change our despicable ways, before it's too late. Before realization arrives much too late to our incompetent minds, and we are faced with consequences in the beyond.