I am a weed, fighting in the garden of life.
I flourish between the cracks of society,
I grow fast,
I grow strong.
But because of this, people try to eradicate;
To squash out that inkling of growth.

I am a weed, fighting in the garden of life.
I strain towards the sky, blooming in the midst of a dark winter.
Nothing can thwart me, who will thrive even without sunlight.
Cut me down, it doesn’t matter-
I’ll just come back from the roots.

I am a weed, fighting in the garden of life.
Perhaps I have my thorns, prickly as life can be.
But that’s just part of who I am,
A weed.
Am I?
Perhaps I’m not.
I am a rose, fighting in the garden for life.
Yes.
I am a rose.
A winter’s rose.