​Rose that grew from concrete

They label it: the rose that grew from concrete They make it sound as an amazing feet

“Lucky the rose”, As if they’d trade places.

I don’t want to be that rose! Give me a fertile ground, and being an ordinary grass blade

Would be just fine. You see the rose,

You don’t see its insides. You’d be horrified.

You wouldn’t be able to sleep at night, My lifecycle would haunt your dreams

So calling me a rose gives order To your universe.

That even though our grounds weren’t the same, Even though you grew in a fertile ground

A rose, just the same. It keeps the illusion, that if not for the concrete

I’d have bloomed into nothing. It keeps the illusion,

That it’s not the ground but the seed.