Too Loud for Prayers: The Confessions of a Sinner

I wrote a book.

Even now, saying those words feels unreal — like admitting to something I wasn’t supposed to do, like finally breathing after holding it in for too long.

Too Loud for Prayers: The Confessions of a Sinner was born out of every night I spent trying to make peace with myself and failing, beautifully. It’s a poetry collection about guilt, about wanting to be forgiven, and about realizing that sometimes forgiveness never comes — at least not in the way we imagine.

I didn’t write it to be pretty. I wrote it because the words wouldn’t stop. They came like hymns for people who don’t belong in churches anymore, for those who pray out of habit rather than faith, for the ones who ache and sin and still want to be loved anyway.

Every poem is a confession — some whispered, some screamed. They carry fragments of sleepless nights, of half-drunk prayers, of the kind of honesty that leaves your throat sore.

This book isn’t about redemption. It’s about surviving the noise inside your own head. It’s about learning that maybe the loudest prayers are just echoes of who we used to be — and maybe that’s enough.

If you’ve ever felt too much, or been told you are too much — this is for you.