"Its Hard To Bloom From Your Doom"-Poem

I was planted like a seed with crooked petals.
Expected to grow from a habitat of concrete.
Little did they know I was to be a rose
because they all gave up on helping me.
I may not be perfect
because my petals are slanted
But i do my best to perfect it
in this unfertile land where i remain stranded.
My mission is to get respected
because as each person passes by.
Still i remain neglected.
Soon i will wither away.
Like every other good rose that have came and gone.
Nobody cares for a rose that is torn.
They only look for the best to be born.
When A storm comes I remain a rose.
When lack of water comes still I remain a rose.
When my leaves wither and my dew becomes bitter
Still I remain a rose.
But even with this natural fact
It is hard to bloom from your doom that unfolds.