Author’s Note

Sometimes the loudest hater in the room is the one you brought with you.

Walk-A-Block in Flames started with the idea of imaginary critics—the voices that somehow manage to find fault with everything you do, even when nobody else is actually saying a damn thing. Naturally, my brain decided the appropriate response was to turn that internal conflict into a ridiculous walk around the block, throw in some wordplay, and see how many times I could make the joke work before the poem eventually turned the joke back on me.

Because beneath all the flames, bravado, and fake enemies, there’s a much simpler realization:

Sometimes the person I’m arguing with is me.

And honestly?

That’s probably the funniest part.

— Rowan Evans

Walk-A-Block in Flames
Poetry by Rowan Evans

They tell me,
these imaginary haters,
that I’ve fuckin’ created—
they live inside my head,
feeding on my self-doubt—
obsessed with burning the self-down.

They make me take a walk,
a walk around a block
and it’s fucking hot—
I guess you could say,
these imaginary haters made me,
Waka Flocka Flame.

Wait—

I meant to say—
these haters made me
Walk-A-Block In Flames.

Honestly though,
I don’t know
what the fuck
they hate me for—

Is it because my wrist froze?
Nope, I’m broke—
Because I’m the best to ever do it?
Nope, that’s a joke—

Is it because they say
the things I think about me?
Couldn’t be—
because I think I’m great,
and these haters are fake.

I mean literally fake,
figments—
they don’t exist,
it’s just me in this bitch.

Hi, it’s me…

I’m the fuckin’ problem.

Journey into the Hexverse

If you’re interested in more poetry, you can find it here → [The Library of Ashes]