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I was a huge source of attars,
Bumble bees and butterflies, 
Nicotine in my nectars,
Day and night are alike to the flies.

You like me so much,
So you plucked me up,
And played me so much,
My fat was burnt up.

While you plucking me,
Dreaming of beautiful flower-vase,
But without any mercy, threw me,
On the pebbles in place of the vase.

The flies are flying here and there,
When I was dying on the pebbles,
I could've survive a few days here,
If they drop water on the pebbles.

Next day, you crushed me with your feet,
Perhaps, you were on the way of work,
Now, my beautifullness into a sheet,
Perhaps, I was born to such work.

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