Disassociation – A poem

The thoughts spin around and around and around my head

They move fast, but I can read all of them

My internal monologue is laid bare to my eyes

They dart madly to keep up with the words

As they get faster and faster

First, I panic, then the world goes dark

I’m done now, you take the wheel

You are here and I am not

Do what you need to do

Just promise to wake me up when it’s over

So, I can clean up the mess you made

Written by Miss Wren


The Fallen One

Your vision is veiled by contempt

And your heart is as heavy as stone

Your soul is barren from judgement

Demons surround you, but you’re alone

Can’t you see that you’re falling, falling

To a place where no one can save you?

Only you can hear the voice calling

You out of the void you’re sinking into

Our hands strike out from the darkness

Like meteors streaking through the sky

To save you from the hell you harness

Like we’re God’s angels from on high

We are not angels, and you’re not God

But you seem to think that you are

We’re your compliant servants that nod

And bow towards you from afar

We can’t save you once you cross the line

The voice calls out to you again

‘There’s good in you! You still have time!’

Are our efforts all in vain?

We saw the goodness in you long ago

You were kind, patient and full of grace

You can shine once more, let it show!

Let redemption be more than saving face!

We reach out to you, but you must reach back

The threshold could swallow us all

You gasp and reach beyond the crack

But the chasm is just too wide

You fall

Written by Miss Wren

An open letter to the awkward – from an awkward person


It’s okay to be awkward, it’s okay to be different. I’m awkward too.

Sometimes it’s a defence mechanism, protecting you from saying the wrong thing at the wrong time.

Sometimes you might not have a lot to say. Maybe you’re thinking hard on things.

Maybe you just want to be left alone.

While awkwardness doesn’t mean that you don’t have friends, you may find it hard to interact with them if you have them. You may feel like you’re being judged, but if they’re really your friends, they won’t mind if you show a little of your awkwardness. Try not to worry too much about it.

Maybe we’re not as good at talking, writing or expressing ourselves, but our thoughts and opinions are as valid as anyone else’s.

Our opinions might be a little out there. They might be a little unconventional. We may just blurt them out without thinking. Sometimes we can be a bit thoughtless.

We may be dreamers that don’t interact with the world that well. We may struggle with mundane tasks. The only way I can remember to do chores is if I put reminders on my phone.

We might like things a certain way, and don’t like our stuff moved. We may be protective of our belongings. We may have a lot of boundaries to protect our more vulnerable selves.

We might be quiet around new people. We’re not comfortable jumping into conversation and many of us aren’t great conversation starters, either. That doesn’t mean we don’t like new people, we just need time to make up our minds if a new person is friendship material.

Some of us may have a mental health issue that can make life a bit more difficult. Some of us may have a learning disability. Some of us have difficulties with past traumas and have specific triggers that people may have to know in advance before interacting with us.

I know I’m difficult. I know I’m awkward. My blank expression and monotone voice don’t mean that I’m incapable of feeling (even though it might seem that way). I’m human. You can still hurt me. My lack of enthusiasm in conversation is a default setting until I’m sure of how to react in an exchange. Sometimes the topic just bores me, and I have nothing to say. I try not to be an asshole. If I’ve been an asshole to you, then I’m sorry. I’ll try and be better.

I’m not speaking to every awkward person out there. I’m not an awkwardness ambassador. Your experiences may be very different from mine, and I’m writing this because all the above has happened to me and maybe you can relate.

It doesn’t matter if you describe yourself as awkward, or eccentric, or difficult. We are all human. You are no better or no worse than anyone else. We’re all in this together.

The Thief – A poem


You took my voice

You broke my wings

Said it was a choice

To lose such petty things

I was mute and crippled

Just the way you liked me

Your hate and disdain rippled

For all but me to see

Jealousy is an ugly beast

As is your entitlement

You could of, at the very least

Left me out of your torment

You didn’t have to be like this

It didn’t have to be like this

Why did it have to be like this?

Why did you have to be like this?

Could you even love?

Did you even care?

You never rose above

You never even dared

Turns out I didn’t need you

As much as you needed to hurt another

I cut you off, then pushed through

All your lies that kept you undercover

You had nowhere left to hide

I was no longer at your side

Written by Miss Wren

I’d Rather Burn Out Than Fade Away

Art by Miss Wren

I’m terrified of fading away. I’m terrified of not leaving my mark on the world.

It’s not so much dying one day, but not living out my dreams.

I don’t want to work in an office or a customer call centre or behind a till.

I want to be a writer. I want to be an artist. I want to be a poet. I want to be a singer.

I’d rather try and do my best at all of these things and be dead at 50 than live into my eighties, wondering what could have been as I sit in a care home.

Maybe that’s a little morbid for someone who’s only 29 years old, but at this point I feel like I haven’t even got off the ground.

My poor mental health and my rocky childhood have robbed me of so much. I have a chip on my shoulder. I’ve envied those who had it better than me for a long time. Not anymore.

I’ve realised that sort of thinking doesn’t get you anywhere. My scars have healed and they’ve made me strong. There’s very little I fear now.

Not giving it everything I’ve got is my greatest fear of all. I would rather burn out than fade away. I want to live my life to the full than kind of live for a long time, not amounting to much.

That’s why I write more now. That’s why I draw more now. That’s why I lift weights and walk in the woodlands. I want to be alive. I want to feel alive.

I’d rather burn out than fade away.

Written by Miss Wren


There’s nothing louder than the silence

Of a soul that’s unfulfilled

Its screams through a void of violence

Grieving for hopes and dreams that were killed

Written by Miss Wren

Gold in the Cracks


The Japanese have an art called Kintsugi

Where they fill cracks in broken pottery

They use lacquer as glue, dusted in gold

And all the cracks shine, glittering and bold

They see the value in something broken

They see the history of the unspoken

Cracks are treasured, not hidden away

Never to be shown to the light of day

I see myself in this philosophy

My scars are like cracks in the pottery

Your love is my gold, making me sublime

My flaws have become beautiful in time

You saw the beauty when I was shattered

You picked up every piece that scattered

Put me together, accepted my flaws

You saw me as the worthiest cause

I see you, my love — broken from mistakes

See you trying to mend your own heart aches

My love is your lacquer, let me hold you

Hold you until you’re set, my trust is glue

Rivers of gold are like veins on our souls

They connect us like the Kintsugi bowls

The cracks fit together, they tell a story

Of our love, our life, our pain and glory

Written by Miss Wren