a flower with perfection blooming every night
with a sweet-scented smell but averse to light
she was a wicked flower on leaving a strange mark
withered in sun's rays but lived again in the dark

the wicked flower, loathed the sun's heat and gleam
everyday, her petal wilt and looses one as it seem
roaming in distinct grounds, digging up any mess
but the guilt of the providence gave an erroneous guess
her petals travelled and noticed the sun's heat
burning her in flames and crumble into sheet
the moon never came back, as the flower is dying
one by one her petals brawl and endure the vying
the flower wail in gloom, ignited by the blaze of the sun
she thought about hope but never come into one
she was the wicked flower, died because of the light
and never breathe again because of the fright