For generations now we've strived
To please you, with our heart.
But people gather in large groups,
To break us all apart.

You hang us high, from trees or hooks,
Or any place you find;
And then you strike at us with sticks.
Oh, you are so unkind.

We take on many different forms;
Bird, fish, and fowl are found.
You beat us 'til our sweetness falls,
Like petals, to the ground.

Perhaps we break too fast for you,
You would prolong your pleasure.
And so you wear a blindfold
To delay our loss of treasure.

Whatever may be your reasons
To bind your eyes up, thus.
This riddle has gone on far too long.
End it now. Name us.