In a garden, a rose begins to sprout 

in the middle of thistles and thorns. 

Trying to rise to beauty from ashes; 

when life sometimes feels so torn. 

It’s petals whisper stories untold; 

of secrets hidden deep under the surface. 

The garden, left to die and alone, 

is a picture of wounds that found no justice. 

The rose, so fragile and frail,  

blooms with vibrant colors. 

It braves the storm that rages; 

having strength, despite the judgment of others. 

In the morning dew, it finds its strength. 

Its roots dig deep under the foundation. 

But despite its struggle to stay strong, 

hope and faith become its formation. 

Drawing from resilience within the chaos; 

it’s getting stronger, day after day. 

Its beauty lies in imperfections seen, 

but it keeps trying, despite what they say. 

The garden is judged hopeless by others, 

but with determination, the rose begins to thrive. 

So, when the night feels long and cold, 

never give up the goal to survive.