They overlooked this rose; this rose was different from the rest.

The rose yearned to grow, but no one wanted to water this rose.

All they could see was its dirty rose petals.

See the petals had holes.

The stem leaned to the side.

This rose wasn’t as vibrant as the others in the garden.

This rose is me.

Don’t overlook me too much.

Because even though my petals are dirty, have holes, and my stem leans to the side

I’m still standing.

One day I’ll blossom into a prettier rose.

My holes will have a story to tell.

Like the rose that grew from the concrete;

These are my petals.

This rose is me.