I'm the rose that grew from this concrete.
Not because it was hard to do so.
But because I demand attention.
I reside in this concrete,
Because
This concrete holds me grounded.
I'm the rose,
Because like roses,
My thorns will prick you when you hurt me.
There's no doubt about my pain,
But this rose,
Demands to be seen.
This rose,
Demands to have a voice when my mouth is nonexistent.
Hear me weep,
But see me grow.
YOU ARE READING
Woman.
PoetryA book of poems and feelings. A book from a girl, a rose from the concrete. A Woman growing.
