A seed they said, in barren ground, No chance to bloom, no hope to be found. A whispered doubt, a pitying frown, But deep within, a fire burned down.
The whispers grew, a chorus strong, “Give it up,” their voices throng. But roots dug deep, where shadows lie, The will to rise, a burning eye.
Through cracks of doubt, the sun peeked through, Nourishing dreams, a steadfast hue. The silent fight, a lonely plight, Yet in the dark, a star burned bright.
One fragile shoot, then branches bold, Unfurling leaves, a story told. A silent bloom, in colors grand, A testament to will that withstands.
The doubting eyes, they turned away, As sunshine danced on petals gay. The barren ground, a vibrant scene, A victory hard-won, a vibrant green.
So let them scoff, and let them doubt, For dreams take root, and find a way out. This fragile bloom, a whispered shout, “Against the odds, I found my way out.”
