A rose growing in cement

In 7th grade we were given different poems to base a narrative on. I received this one. I saw hope in this poem as a glowing theme. Something beautiful dealing with hardship doing everything it can to hold onto life in a world of cement.  

I wrote about suicide, my mom also received a phone call from my guidance counselor, which  I took as a compliment saying my writing was convincingly good. 

     In short, the girl in my poem had a hard life. Her parents were divorced, her dad an alcoholic. She dealt with depression and anxiety and was going to kill herself that night. As she was walking, lost in thought, finalizing her goodbyes in her head, she saw a rose growing in the cracks of cement. She stopped and looked at this flower. The rose was beautiful, it was slouching over a little bit, in need of water, but it was alive. The girl took this as a sign, as a sign of hope. For, if this rose could grown when no one else cared she too could survive. 

I know there is no conclusion to the post. I dont know 

TTFN💙