My Life Was Not My Own

Photo by Artem Kim on Unsplash

My life is not my own

I’m not sure if I lost it

Or never had it to begin with

I’m falling apart, bit by bit

I live to serve your every whim

A vessel of compliance and sin

I did everything you wanted

But that’s a game I could never win

I was always bad in your eyes

Something broken never to be fixed

It took many years to realise

That you had made me weak and transfixed

By an icy stare, an insult, and lies

And the vaguest notion of admiration

Held up too high for me to reach

To remind me that I was your creation

It was like I owed you

My life, my very existence

Because I believed you to be true

And your love was my sustenance

I realised I didn’t need you

The way you needed to hurt another

I believe in myself; I know I’m true

But you, you’re no one – some other


Written by Miss Wren



Image by the author

I hid myself away

In a covering of silk

So soft, so warm, so peaceful

I slip inside myself

Only to realise

I don’t know who I was

Or who I’m meant to be

It’s easy to lose myself

In the cocoon of familiarity

My body breaks down

And rearranges itself

In deep discomfort

Who am I becoming?

Why does it hurt?

Where is the light?

Do I have to break myself down?

Before I can be rebuilt anew?

My tangled limbs thrash against the walls

My body quivers like a new-born

I kick out and the light streams in

I’ve broken through, my leg dangling

I push again to pull myself out

Gasping for air as I shiver

I climb atop the chrysalis

Breath caught in my lungs

Overcome by the fresh air

I pause to see my body transformed

I had to be broken into a thousand pieces

Before I could put myself back together

I’ll never go back to who I was before

I hope I’ll stay this way forever

Written by Miss Wren

The Secret War

Image by the author

The secret war isn’t on the battlefield

Nor fought on land or sea

No side will yield

Until death silences our humanity

Victory is only temporary

Like all the seasons past

You better hold fast

Because you’re already in it

Just like everyone else

You’re fighting every day

Some days are quieter than others

It doesn’t mean you can rest easy

The war is inside your mind

You choose to rise or fall

You choose to make your war matter

If it even matters at all

Written by Miss Wren

The Magician’s Apprentice

Image by the author

Last night, under the full moon

Is the night I lost control

A sickness came over me too soon

My body wasn’t ready, something possessed my soul

My words are potent incantations

That made the impossible appear

My eyes can’t fathom the conjurations

I had summoned spirits most mortals fear

My palms sparked flames that licked my fingers

Despite the blazing heat, my body shivers

The rush of power that seldom lingers

Left my body and flowed like rivers

They poured out of me and glowed blue underground

Like a swarm of abyssal sea creatures

The roots pulsed underneath me, an unearthly sound

As if I was a tree, but with human features

If I can do this, am I even human?

Have I transcended and become a god?

Or am I to be feared, subhuman?

To be put to death by firing squad

I can’t think like that, I’m a human being

With the power I barely understand

I birthed this power, my eyes unseeing

Created by an apprentice’s hand

Written by Miss Wren

My Imaginary Escapade

Photo by Abby Kihano from Pexels

One thousand ideas circle around my head

Dazzling like a swarm of fireflies

They weave through the air, fast and slow

They dim and they glow

Like stars that twinkle in the inky sky above

As above, so below

Heaven and Earth aren’t so different now

Inspiration is all around

I need not catch the fireflies

Let them dance their lazy dance

While I admire them, before sinking back

Into a place of comfort

Curled up among my cushions

Drinking my steaming green tea

From my favourite china mug

Written by Miss Wren

Imagination – A Poem

Photo by Sourav Mishra from Pexels

I slip between worlds

Veiled by a blank stare

And eyes that glean like moonstone

I’m not where you think I am

I am inside myself

Sinking deeper and deeper

And yet, rising somewhere higher

This place doesn’t abide by gravity

It changes on a whim

This place is inside my mind

The rush is palpable

As neurons fire, the pulse racing

To create worlds within worlds

Right here inside my mind

Written by Miss Wren


Image by the author

Don’t force your way onto the page

Let your words flow like the blood in your veins

These words are part of you now

The rhythm of your writing is a heartbeat

Your handwriting is a pulse

Everything is intertwined

Within your heart, your soul

These are the words you write

Filled with power, filled with might

And by the miracle of sight

You let the words flow in the twilight

Like a silvery stream on a moonlit night.

Written by Miss Wren

Celebrating the Little Victories

Image by author

Today has been tough but rewarding.

It’s good to finally have created an illustration just for this article!

I thought about writing a full-length article, but that can wait for another day!

I’ve been nervous about posting my own art online for the last few weeks. Whilst I’ve been sketching in my sketchbook most days, I had lost my confidence to actually post anything.

I didn’t believe that my art was any good.

Not thinking your skill is good enough to be shared stops many people from progressing in that skill. It doesn’t matter if you draw, write or play an instrument. It’s prevalent in all creative pursuits. When you demonstrate your skill to the wider world, we expose ourselves to rejection, criticism, and ridicule.

It’s not easy to overcome.

So every time you do share a song you’ve made, a sketch you’ve done or a poem you’ve written, give yourself a pat on the back! Treat yourself! Quite often the anticipation of showing someone your work is worse than the act.

The only way you can overcome your fear is to keep sharing the stuff you make. The more you do it, the less scary it becomes. That’s not to say that the fear completely goes away — your mind is just able to handle it better. I’m less nervous about sharing my writing than I am with my art.

Creativity is an expression of the human soul. We are vulnerable when we show our talents to the public. It’s okay to be a little scared. Most other artists understand this and tend to avoid being too critical of other artists in the same field. We’re all in the same boat.

So I’m giving myself a pat on the back for sharing this illustration! I hope to do more illustrations for articles in the near future!

Written by Miss Wren

Little Bird

Image by Miss Wren

Inside a metal cage

A little bird sings

It chirps and it twitters

A song that only it can understand

As it puffs its chest and lets its notes ring in the air

The passion is unmistakable

Listen, and you will understand

The passion is the answer

Not everything has a why

But that bird shouldn’t be in a cage

It should be soaring upon high, in the big blue sky

You might ask me ‘why?’

And I say this;

The bird has wings, it is meant to fly!

Written by Miss Wren