The Almost grown baby rose

Am I whom they see me as?
 Am I the rose fully sprouted out of the grass?.
I am the blanket in the middle of the sea,
as I do stand out to thee,
 but constantly I have to prove to the dandelions
grown from the same water I was based on,
I am no more the little seed.
 My gardener has placed me somewhere different, somewhere it is difficult to grow,
somewhere dark and cold,
somewhere, the sun doesn't shine,
somewhere the clouds cry the most.
 Up and about the windowsill I sit,
 that leaves me lonely
As the rain constantly hits my petals.
 I am, the almost grown baby rose
still treat as a seed
a seed I was to be in the beginning
Even placed in a more sturdy yet lonely place
 I am forever treated, as just a stem.