Frass

It is squished, trampled, and pressed. After six years of steady use, the frass has been diminished to a feeble trampling. As it glistens it nearly reminds you of real grass recently wet by dew. But looking closer the stark difference is shown. These little, little, blades are as thick as a piece of lead and spiral like a steep staircase to nowhere. It is nearly a mockery of the real thing. Though not especially beholding to the eye this grass has the great talent of drawing nutrients from the rubber flakes that weigh it down. Despite the looks, feel, and smell, the most depressing fact of this catastrophe is the leaves, fallen to the ground, with the hope of returning to mother nature, being denied the sweet recoupling of nature.