Rose created with meta ai

lyrics by the Ai story i created i will turn it into a song just to listen to it this is norm deleted by me hehehe

Intro

Verse

Bridge

Chorus

Outro

The whithered rose had grown in a crack in the center of a drive way where it had lived since its birth . It was not planted by careful hands or protected by a fence . It existed because a single seed had fallen into a thin break in the concrete and decided , against all reason , to survive . Rainwater collected there just enough . Dust gathered . Sunlight reached it in short , fierce bursts . From that narrow space , life insisted on happening .

The driveway belonged to a quiet house with faded paint and a mailbox that leaned slightly to the left . Cars passed over it every day , their tires rumbling close enough to make the rose tremble . Still , it grew . Its stem bent but did not break . Its leaves curled at the edges but stayed green . Its petals were not perfect , yet their deep red color felt almost defiant against the gray concrete that surrounded them .

No one had noticed the rose at first . People walked past , eyes on their phones , minds on errands and schedules . The rose did not need attention to exist . It simply needed space , however small , and time .

One day a child rode his bike back and forth narrowly missing the beautiful rose . The sound of rubber tires against concrete echoed through the driveway , again and again . The child was young , restless , filled with energy that had nowhere to settle . His bike wobbled slightly as he practiced riding without hands , laughing when he nearly lost his balance .

Each time he passed , the rose shook from the rush of air . The wind from the spinning wheels bent its petals , but they always returned to their place . The child did not notice the rose at first . To him , the driveway was just a path , a space for movement , speed , and noise .

Over days , the child returned . Back and forth he rode , tracing the same lines in the concrete . The rose became part of the landscape , something small and bright at the edge of his vision . He missed it narrowly each time , the tires rolling just inches away . The rose endured , unaware of how close it came to being erased .

The rose had no understanding of danger , only of growth . It reached upward whenever the sun appeared . It leaned toward warmth . Its roots pushed deeper into the crack , searching for whatever nourishment they could find . Life , to the rose , was simple . Grow or wither . Hold on or disappear .

Untill one day the child did not miss . The moment arrived without ceremony . The sky looked no different . The air carried the same quiet hum of the neighborhood . But something had shifted inside the child . Perhaps boredom had turned into curiosity . Perhaps curiosity had turned into something darker .

He noticed the rose clearly then . He slowed his bike , looking down at it . The red against gray caught his attention . It stood out in a place where nothing else dared to grow . Instead of seeing resilience , the child saw a target .

In fact the evil little child aimed right for the beauty that stood before him . He adjusted the angle of his handlebars . He pedaled forward with intention . The bike rolled directly toward the rose , no longer missing by chance .

The rose had no time to respond . There was no warning . One moment it stood , petals open , catching the light . The next , the tire crushed down upon it . The stem snapped . The petals tore . What had taken weeks to grow was destroyed in seconds .

Destroying its awe and beauty that grow in such harsh condictions . The tire passed over , leaving behind flattened petals and broken leaves pressed into the concrete . The child did not stop immediately . He rode a few feet farther before turning around to look .

For a moment , there was silence . The rose lay broken , no longer reaching for the sun . The crack in the driveway looked empty again , as if nothing had ever lived there . The child stared , unsure of what he felt . Triumph . Confusion . Or something quieter .

He dismounted his bike and walked back . Up close , the rose looked smaller than before . Fragile . Its color was dulled by dust and dirt . The child nudged it with the toe of his shoe , watching as a petal fell away .

He had not expected that . Something twisted in his chest , subtle and unfamiliar . He had aimed for it , yes , but now that it was gone , the space it left behind felt strange .

The days that followed were different . The child still rode his bike , but the driveway felt wider , emptier . The crack remained , but nothing filled it . Rain fell and disappeared into the concrete . Sunlight touched bare ground .

The rose , though broken , was not entirely gone . Beneath the surface , its roots remained . They had pushed deep into the crack , holding tight to whatever life they could find . The stem above was destroyed , but the possibility of growth still lingered below .

The child did not know this . He only knew that something beautiful had been there , and now it was not . He began to think about that moment more than he expected . At night , when the house was quiet , the image returned . The red petals . The sound of the tire . The sudden end .

He wondered why he had aimed for it . There was no answer that felt right . He had not been angry at the rose . It had done nothing to him . It had simply existed .

Weeks passed . The driveway cracked a little more as seasons changed . Rain widened the break . Dust settled again . And one morning , something green appeared .

A small shoot pushed upward from the crack . Fragile . Determined . The rose was trying again .

This time , the child noticed sooner . He stopped his bike at the edge of the driveway and stared . The memory of destruction was still fresh . He felt something new now . Hesitation .

He watched the small plant grow over days . It was slower this time . Smaller . But it persisted . Each leaf felt like a quiet refusal to disappear .

The child began riding carefully around it . He no longer passed close . The space between tire and stem grew wider . He told no one about the rose . It felt like something personal , something earned through regret .

The rose grew again in harsh condictions . Not as tall . Not as bold . But alive . Its petals eventually returned , slightly paler than before , yet still beautiful .

The child learned something without words . That destruction is easy . That beauty , once broken , is not guaranteed to return . And that when it does , it deserves protection , not aim .

The driveway remained cracked . Life remained difficult . But the rose stood once more , a quiet reminder that even when crushed , something fragile can try again .