Stepped on, squandered, smashed.
Thrown, trampled, trashed.

Everyone passing you by,
Not wanting to look you in the eye.

They think you're ugly,
Glancing at you smugly.

What they don't know,
Is that you bestow

A beauty they can't even comprehend.
For I think you set a trend.

A trend of great love and beauty,
Who's splattered cement still smells fruity.

They'll never know you like I do,
So let's bid them all Adieu.