The Rose

Rock. Hard place.

I’ve rarely found life to be anywhere else.

But I am the rose that grew through concrete.

Thorns and all.

I have willed myself to make something beautiful out of this existence. To leave a mark. To impact.

To endure.

Desperate to shine a light in the darkness so others might find their own path.

Sometimes I feel like a fool. Like a delusional egomaniac, for wanting to be something greater, for you, for myself, than life has tried to convince me I deserve.

The question lingers…

What do I believe?

And the decision must always be made…

So I choose to keep growing.

As the rose…

With thorns and all.

I hope you see me.