Solitude Not Loneliness by Sanna Wren

This is not loneliness
but solitude.
These are not tears
but life-giving rain.
This is not night
but knight.

When these weeds
are not just trash
but armour
of environment,
why should I feel
so worthless?
I should not.

She is Not a Virgin by Sanna Wren

She is not a virgin,
but she is not a slut.

She has the hands
to serve you.
She has the voice
to calm you.
She has the heart
to love you.
She has the curves
to attract you.
She has the so-called
pleasure to doze you
or warm you
after a frozen day.
And she has the womb
to raise babies
for you to play
piggy back.

But she is not a virgin.
Does it matter?
Does it matter so much?
Is purity a damn matter?
Well! So your heart
is so damn pure
like a holy man, I guess.
Well! So your eyes
have not been to
porn videos, I guess.
Well! So your head
has not been to
wild fantasies, I guess.
Well! So you’re a ticket
straight to the heaven.

Well! Holy man,
keep labelling her
as slut, slut, slut…
What a power!
What a shitty power!

An Only Magical Potion by Sanna Wren

There is nothing
in this corona-world to do,
and I lock myself
in a messed up room,
sit by the lonely window
with my crowded mind
of all the troubles,
and there I fall, into
the tone of wind,
the rustling of leaves,
the dance of trees,
the songs of birds,
the buzz of bees,
the fragrance of flowers,
the pattern of sunlight
and tinsel-like grass.

How beautiful is the power
and beauty of stillness.
An only magical potion
for the metro-train-like world
to unburden all its troubles.

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