In the lens of the camera, she stands,
A sapling in the limelight, not yet grand.
Her roots, shallow, deprived of the earth's embrace,
Parents, like shadows, absent of grace.

A visage of beauty, yet inside she's marred,
By the harshness of flashes, her essence scarred.
Men, like storms, with intentions unkind,
Leave her branches trembling, yet her core they can't find.

She is the tree on the sidewalk, fighting for space,
Her leaves unfurling with silent grace.
No gardener's love to prune or to tend,
Yet she reaches for the sun, refusing to bend.

In the forest of life, where love is a rare bloom,
She stands resilient, in spite of the gloom.
Her bark may bear the etchings of pain,
But like the Lotus, she grows through the strain.

No whispered affections, no roots running deep,
Yet she stands, undaunted, her own soul to keep.
A show of resilience, in the urban sprawl,
A testament to thriving, her back to the wall.

For in her silent battle, there's a powerful plea,
A yearning for life, to simply be free.
And though love may not find her in the expected ways,
She'll flourish in the cracks, through the unyielding haze.