I am one of many roses
that grew from concrete -
the gardens of the city.
Sidewalks as hard
as the walls we've built around us,
for we were dropped as seeds
within the cracks of them.
He left the city
in search of land
of milk and honey;
left his rose to starve in drought.
'She was out of season', he said
... out of place.
Who told you the grass is greener
than the grey streets you know so well?
Find me here where you left me,
between rocks and hard places.
Count the petals you didn't know I could bloom
and thank God He left a thorn of you
to be remembered by.
I am the seed that was once buried
but return to me
and see how I grew from concrete.
See how I grew from you.
Betrayal stings like poison.
I pulled out all of my thorns for you,
because I would never hurt you.
... I made that vow.
But there was no sense
in creating holes for a man
who doesn't care enough
to fill them back up.
You are only interested
in filling one kind.
And so, I push my thorns back in
from where I pulled them;
stabbing at my own flesh -
But at least the next man to pick me
will look down at the blood on his fingers
and think twice.