Wallflower

Displayed on your wall, pretty and smiling.
No purpose but to look pleasant and die.
Just a bundle of petals, hollow inside. Nothing but air between.
Flashing my colours at everyone who passes by so they may pass an appreciative look, approve of your 'taste'.
I cannot talk to them- of course not- I'm braindead to them.
Slow and pleasant, oh so pretty. You must be so proud.

It's killing me, but they approve. And you're so proud!
Oh well, but when I wilt away in the night, you will throw me in the bin, with your very own hands, that picked me to decorate your wall with. Glad to be of help sir!
Sorry I couldn't be more to you.
And I'm sorry you couldn't see more in me.