What I was and still am

Growing out and up,
water poured out of the cup.
I am not the one that grows,
months bring highs and lows.
The sprouts grow tall and strong,
with me to help all along.
A stepping stone am I,
this is what i say without lie.
Weeds grows in this place,
cut them down, with them I full disgrace.
Weeds will fall in pattern, row on row.
With beatings, blow after blow.
The crops spread far and wide.
With the water come in with tide.
The weeds corpses have been found,
when you find me, the perfect growing ground.