Nov 14
sunny's picture


my essence, my uniqueness - being a proud muslim girl in a unique world. how will i sustain that proud feeling? we may no longer live in a melting pot. it might just be a fruit plate - people classified and seperated by race and gender, with none intermixing. sure, they say, "it's just for publicity, there are checks and balances," but to me, it's very real. how will people recieve me? do they see my personality? my soul? or do they see the extremists that represent my religion, my culture, my race? i may be persecuted. i may be driven out of the country, chased by xenophobes and bigots. he says, "all muslims will be banned." it's been changed, muddled as the long, excruciating months drew out, but the message is very clear - we are no longer welcome. this is my worst nightmare. will i finish my high school years here? will i be criticized for wearing a headscarf in public? or will we move, to pakistan or saudi arabia or canada?
May 03
sunny's picture

Yellow's Journey

I know,
That yellow and blue make green,
A perfect mix of colors,
The color of the tall trees, of the grassy ground.
But when that harmonious green becomes ugly,
Dark and foreboding,
The yellow and blue slowly pull apart.
 f a r t h e r,
f  a  r  t  h  e  r ,
f   a   r   t   h   e   r.
The blue goes to the red,
And they make a deep purple,
Perfect enough for royalty.
And they become
                               c   l   o   s   e   r,
                                                   c  l  o  s  e  r  ,
c l o s e r.
Yellow slowly turns mustard,
Wilted like an over-watered sunflower.
But yellow finds white,
And together, they lighten each other up.
White introduces yellow to other, foreign and exotic colors.
Pink, teal, and mauve.
Yellow fits in,
And makes friends with them.
But slowly, she senses that white is blinding her.
May 03
sunny's picture


Witty quotes and funny sayings,
Completely escape me.
Fumbling for my words,
Attempting to cleverly craft a simple simile.
An amateur alliteration at its very best,
But it shows me that I may just be able to have enough word prowess to master wit.
You see, I have oodles and oodles of words in my brain,
But the way it sounds in my head and the way I say it doesn’t quite sound the same.
In reality, it actually resembles something quite lame.
Now that I think about it,
I don’t chair anymore.
It doesn’t matter.
Nothing really mattress.

Apr 17
sunny's picture


beauty is like bubbles,

it always dies.

rising up into the air,

purple, blue, and green tinted spheres that make the world a 'better place'.

but as soon as little troubles like a gust of wind mar the bubbles' frail membrane,

it pops

like beauty pops.

like the barrier of oblivion pops. 

like death pops.

teetering on the edge of life and death,

of popping or not popping,

of staying or leaving.

this is the way that the world works.

no beauty stays in this world.