Sermons For Her

Silly girl.
Keep your voice down.
The syllables in your throat that are choking you are your own creation.
Drink a glass of whiskey from the cabinet and burn them.
Let your stomach be a graveyard of unsaid things.
The scars left by mocking words are covered with the stinging ointment of laughter
that bubbles from your lips and tastes like poison.
You wonder if it tastes like honey on the lips of others.
Keep your head down and your eyes closed and pray to whatever god may be.
It doesn’t matter if your veins carry flames instead of blood.
Because their souls are cracked ice and there will be no place for a forest fire like yours.
So put out the inferno inside you and take a step into hell.
Here you’ll find friends and murderers. Sometimes both.
Wrecking balls will turn your bones into dust and the pillars of your pride into rubble.
Don’t scream. It’ll ruin your pretty face.
Sit in silence with your hands folded gently in your lap and bite your tongue until it rusts.

Trust me darling,
its better this way.


This poem was the first time anger in its purest form seeped into my writing. I am hoping you liked it.

Also, remember the life determining exams I told you about?
Well I’m in the middle of them.
Wish me luck.

Thank you so much for reading.

Until We Meet Again


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