by Laila Abdulmalik
Cherry blossoms so pink and powerful
My window view speaks of better days
I smell plain rice being steamed on the stove
A sweet and sticky delight is imagined by my taste buds
Grandma is playing with her friends in the next room over
She is a powerful woman
and a sore loser
I love this place, but I hate being here
Stuck in a rut in a beautiful paradise
My black hair is falling from the stress
Should I stay or should I go?
I know they would miss me ,
but am I missing the person who I can become?