If you bloom in the worst of your days,
When skies are ash and hope decays,
Then know your roots run deep and strong,
A quiet fire that burns all wrong.
The storm may twist, the cold may bite,
But still you rise, still you ignite.
No golden sun, no gentle rain—
Yet still you flower through the pain.
So let them see what strength is made,
A bloom unbowed, in darkest shade.
For beauty born in struggle stays—
A light that lives beyond the blaze.
Disha 🌻
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