The fault in it's star

I don't know,

Who planted me here?

Neither do i know,

Why i was planted here?

But all i know,

Is that i am not at all treated well.

With the droplets of spring,

I start blooming flowers,

If its not enough for my aesthetic aspects,

Bees swam all around,

I wish they were to enjoy my beauty,

Contrary to which,

My sweetness being sucked, 

My youthful being taken,

And forcing me into parenthood.

I face the monsoon,

Standing firm on the cross-road,

I try to be strong, for i have hundreds of babies,

To feed and to tend.

I overcame the monsoon, 

Walked into autumn,

My babies being grown up,

Their faces being tainted,

with autumn rays into red and yellow,

Beautiful they all look,

But the mankind fails to appreciate,

The hardship i took,

To grow them big and beautiful,

Instead, a boy comes hither,

Shoots me a stone,

Hits my red- faced baby hard,

A girl thither go,

Spins a broken branch,

Hits hard on my arm,

Takes my yellow-faced baby down,

And a man walks beneath my shade,

Takes a step backward,

And attempts for a flying kick,

The tremor of which,

Takes my other off-springs down,

An old lady walks,

Only wishing my babies to lose the grip of my hand,

My helpless babies,

On the ground, 

Worrying of their turn,

To be picked, crunched and chewed,

With little mercy,

I am helpless, 

Half of me tired of being hit again and again,

While other half, having to witness ill treatment of my offsprings.

I faced the autumn,

But little could i do to save me and my babies,

And, now i am left,

With little strength,

And few hopes,

To face the coming season,

The coldness of which,

I will be numb,

Or else killed,

To warm the in-humans,