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

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