They will make you feel guilty for feeling so deeply, for loving too much.
They will teach you to hate your body, how to aim and shoot at your own scars.
You will have to learn how to tame your heart, how to bring down all the layers of your skin, how to mold them into one.
Calm the voice inside of you; push back the waves, the ocean that forms your entire being.
Forget them, forget the noise, forget the target they embroidered onto your back, the one that took all your breath out, the one that kept you up at night.
Trust only your sisters, the ones with flowers in their hair that refuse to swallow their vocabulary.
Trust only the girls who’ve mastered the art of folding themselves, who look invisible but still know how to fight with words instead of swords.
Your name is a hurricane, hold it close to you like a weapon, use it as a shield.
Understand that you don’t need someone to fill the empty void between your lungs and ribs.
Remember that you need that space to breathe.
Trust me, I am your sister
I was like you before.
Poem By: Carla Lupou