Grass

I am soft and hard I'm green and I can die when I do I turn into grey. People can pick me and leave me chilling but the wind blows me away. Every night I can grow centimetres. People pick and play with me and throw me around when they want, people even fight with me against each other. People dig me out and play with me for fun. I don’t mind this treatment but I get angry when golfers take chunks of me out while hitting their silly golf balls. Treat me with care.