Art of a fallen blossom

I was the blossom on the tree, 

born as a product of the spring, 

one day you noticed my beauty, 

that's the day you chose me. 

Your nurtured me with your water, 

your oxygen, 

your sunlight, 

you were the commander of my growth. 

I was blinded by your grace, 

I was unable to see, 

as autumn came, 

I did not fall like the others. 

You stuck me to my branch, 

you took back your water, 

your oxygen, 

your sunlight, 

you murdered me. 

You stuck me to my branch, 

you framed it, 

now I am your artwork. 

I am the product of your creativity, 

except this time, 

you were not striving for beauty, 

you found beauty in destruction. 

I am no longer a blossom, 

born as a product of the spring, 

The day you chose me, 

was the end for me.