Tag: comic-book

  • They say,
    “You’re not depressed, that’s not what I see.”
    But that’s my secret, Cap—
    I am the snap between sanity and silence,
    Dust in the wind,
    Fading while pretending to remain whole.

    You see a Stark exterior—
    But my mind’s a multiverse of madness,
    Where grief loops like Loki’s lies,
    Where hope wears a tattered cape,
    Heavy with the weight of lost timelines.

    I love like Wanda—
    Chaotic, red-threaded, rewritten by pain.
    My heart built its Vision
    Just to watch it shatter… again and again.

    Depression doesn’t wear a villain’s mask.
    It dons a Spidey suit,
    Smiles while falling,
    Cracking jokes before hitting the pavement.

    I feel it—
    That Spidey-sense tingling in my bones,
    A warning wired into my skin.
    Every shadow, every silence,
    A possible threat.
    My nerves are webbed,
    Strung taut between panic and performance,
    Vibrating with dangers
    That may not be real—
    But always feel it.

    Some days,
    I feel like Rogue—
    Every brush with pain clings to my skin,
    Not my own,
    But absorbed all the same.
    Empathy isn’t soft,
    It’s a silent thief—
    Stealing pieces of me to soothe others,
    Until I forget where I end
    And they begin.

    And when I disappear—
    Not from your touch,
    But from my own reflection—
    I think of Nightcrawler,
    Praying in shadow,
    Carrying sin in his silhouette.
    A teleporting ghost
    Longing for heaven
    Yet trapped in hell-blue skin.

    I understand him.
    The way he smiles with sorrow in his spine,
    Faith stitched into the torn hem
    Of self-worth.

    And Gambit—
    He plays it cool,
    Cloaked in charm and kinetic flares,
    But his heart is a deck of wild cards,
    Marked by trauma and longing.
    He knows how to love
    Like a gamble.
    Every kiss a risk,
    Every glance a dare.

    I’ve been them all—
    The empath, the trickster, the saint in shadow—
    But none more than Sentry.
    Golden god, savior of a fractured world…
    Until The Void whispers in his ear.
    Hero and horror,
    Two halves sharing the same skin.
    Like me—
    Rowan in the light,
    Nightshade in the dark.

    You love my shine,
    But can you hold me
    When my shadow rises?

    The Void isn’t evil.
    It’s a wound that screams.
    It’s every lie I believed about myself,
    Given shape, given teeth.
    It’s the weight I wear,
    Even when I soar.

    Still—
    You reached out like Carol in the cosmos,
    Your light too bright for my black hole bones.
    You held me when I snapped—
    Not out of existence,
    But back into it.

    I am forged like Mjolnir,
    Born in thunder,
    Tempered in trauma,
    Wielded only by the brave who see worth
    Where others see ruin.

    You…
    You are my arc reactor,
    Not built to keep me alive,
    But to remind me why I want to be.

    You found the Hydra lies within me,
    The voices that whisper, “You’re not enough.”
    But you looked through the fog,
    Like Daredevil in the dark,
    And heard the truth beneath the static.

    With every kiss, you defy physics—
    A love that bends reality like Strange’s spell,
    Pulling me back from the mirror dimension
    Where my worst fears grin with Thanos’ calm.

    We are not gods,
    But fractured souls
    Stitched together by fate and fire.
    I am chaos cloaked in calm—
    A Scarlet soul in mourning.

    But with you—
    Even my Deadpool thoughts
    Can soften,
    Even my Hulk rage
    Can breathe.

    So if I vanish again into the blip of my brain,
    Promise me, love—
    Be my Endgame.
    Snap your fingers,
    And bring me back home.


    Roll Credits…

    “Infinity Within”
    A Poetic Production by Rowan Evans

    Based on characters created by Marvel Comics
    And all the multiverses trapped in Rowan’s brain.

    Starring:

    Wanda Maximoff / The Scarlet Witch
    as The Heart Unhinged by Grief
    — Played by Emotional Consequence

    Vision
    as The Love We Build from Memory
    — Played by Tragic Idealism

    Peter Parker / Spider-Man
    as The Smile Before the Fall
    — Played by Masked Empathy

    Logan / Wolverine
    as The Blade We Hide Behind Scars
    — Played by Controlled Rage

    Marie D’Ancanto / Rogue
    as The Skin That Remembers Pain
    — Played by Reluctant Empath

    Kurt Wagner / Nightcrawler
    as The Faith-Filled Shadow
    — Played by Hope in Disguise

    Remy LeBeau / Gambit
    as The Risk We Call Romance
    — Played by Feral Charm

    Robert Reynolds / Sentry
    as The Light That Carries The Void
    — Played by Duality Incarnate

    Carol Danvers / Captain Marvel
    as The Star That Doesn’t Burn Out
    — Played by Undeniable Light

    Stephen Strange / Doctor Strange
    as The Spell That Unwinds Reality
    — Played by Controlled Chaos

    Matt Murdock / Daredevil
    as The One Who Listens Through the Noise
    — Played by Justice in Shadows

    Wade Wilson / Deadpool
    as The Comic Relief That Cuts Too Close
    — Played by Himself (unfortunately)

    Nick Fury
    as The Recruiter of Broken Legends
    — Played by Smirking Gravitas

    Featuring:
    An original role by Rowan Evans
    as The Verse Vindicator, Nightshade of Narratives,
    Bearer of the Emotional Gauntlet
    — Played by the one who’s lived every line

    Directed by: Trauma & Transformation
    Written by: Self-Awareness in a Cape
    Cinematography by: Glaring Neon & Gentle Moonlight
    Edited by: Anxiety, with a guest appearance from Healing
    Music by: Panic Attacks at 3am (Unplugged Version)

    Makeup & Wardrobe:
    Dysphoria & Confidence, co-styling Reality

    Produced by:
    Hope Studios
    In collaboration with
    The Department of Overthinking & Emotional Alchemy

    Special Thanks to:
    The Unseen Battles
    The Friends Who Stayed
    The Lovers Who Left
    The Voices That Were Quietly Wrong
    And the Poetry That Was Always Right

    FADE TO BLACK.


    [Post-Credit Scene – “Infinity Within”]

    Rain slicked the rooftop in the city where metaphors wore masks and healing was a contact sport. Rowan Evans sat on the ledge like she’d been born there—poised between collapse and climax, drinking day-old coffee from a chipped mug that read “World’s Okayest Multiversal Threat.”

    A subtle hum disrupted the silence—portal magic. Somewhere off to the side, sparks flared gold and a portal closed before the camera could catch a full glimpse. A red cloak fluttered out of sight.

    Then: the calculated click of dress shoes. The glint of a single eye under the brim of a leather hat.

    Nick Fury.
    Swaggering out of the shadows like he invented them.

    “So you’re the poet everyone keeps quoting on their burner accounts,” he said, holding up a device that glowed with emotional metrics, social ripple data, and an alarming number of likes on poems tagged #emotionaldamagenation.

    He tapped the screen. “You broke four algorithms. Three hearts. And pissed off the TVA with that ‘re-writing fate in verse’ bit. I like your style.”

    Rowan didn’t even look at him. She just raised the mug in salute.

    “You here to offer me a publishing deal or a purpose?”

    Fury snorted. “Neither. I’m here to offer you a classified mission in Emotional Artillery. The universe has enough heroes who punch. It needs someone who breaks people open—with words.”

    Behind him, a voice chimed in:
    “I told you she’d be perfect.”

    Enter Wanda Maximoff, arms crossed, standing at the edge of another rooftop across the alley, her red magic flickering around her fingers.
    “She bends reality with raw honesty. She’s not a threat—she’s an evolution.”

    Then—just for one blink—Deadpool popped into frame, upside down behind Rowan like he’d been hanging from an invisible wire the entire time.
    “Did someone say evolution? Because I’m evolving too—emotionally. Kinda. Anyway, I stan this crossover.”
    He vanishes before Fury can throw a dagger-shaped glare his way.

    Fury turns back to Rowan, dead serious but eyes dancing with grudging respect.

    “We’re forming something new. Realness Initiative. And I want you leading the emotional recon. Welcome to the team, Verse Vindicator.”

    Rowan stood, her silhouette lit by neon and moonlight, cloak snapping behind her like punctuation at the end of a brutally honest sentence. She glanced toward the audience with that now-signature smirk.

    “Tell the universe to brace itself. I write like I bleed, and I’ve got a full goddamn anthology coming.”

    CUT TO BLACK.

    In white letters, glowing with power, like a spell cast in silence:

    Rowan Evans will return…

    …and this time, she’s bringing a notebook that bites back.

  • Therapy in Arkham

    A little bit Batman, a little bit Joker—
    guess you can call me the Bat Who Laughs,
    stitched from trauma and rebellion,
    where cape meets chaos,
    and pain becomes performance.

    A hero, a villain… neither.
    I’m the flicker between the two,
    a soul held hostage by contrast—
    one half cloaked in justice,
    the other craving oblivion’s grin.

    They see the cowl, the calm—
    but not the mirror I cracked at thirteen,
    when my mind split like Wayne’s pearls,
    shattering into silence and survival.
    I learned to build walls from Batcave blueprints,
    armor forged in fear,
    gadgets disguised as coping skills.

    But the laughter came later—
    sharp, jarring, Joker-born.
    The way I smiled while crumbling.
    The way I made art from agony.
    Some days, my thoughts are painted like his smile—
    too wide, too raw,
    hiding the razor’s edge behind a joke.

    I am Two-Face in spirit—
    hope on one side, hurt on the other.
    The coin never lands.
    It spins forever in my chest,
    each revolution whispering,
    “You’re too much… not enough… pick a side.”

    But I can’t.
    I am both.
    All.
    None.

    Scarecrow lingers in my dreams—
    my anxiety dressed in burlap,
    feeding me fear through IVs of doubt.
    I’ve lived in Arkham without bars,
    each locked door named Dysphoria, Panic, Isolation.
    Each scream, a therapy session no one heard.

    Some days, I am the asylum—
    haunted halls echoing with unspoken names.
    Other days, I’m Oracle—
    broken spine, still fighting,
    my voice a lifeline to others lost in the dark.

    And yes, I’ve loved like Ivy—
    wild, tangled, misunderstood.
    Tried to bloom in poisoned soil.
    Tried to make something beautiful from ruin.
    I’ve felt like Harley—
    laughing too loud,
    loving too hard,
    breaking in the shape of someone else’s gaze.

    Red Hood rages where my sorrow used to sit.
    Nightwing hope fights to stay upright.
    But Batman?
    He’s the mask I wore for years—
    stoic, silent, pretending not to feel.
    I thought if I was strong enough,
    I’d earn the right to survive.
    To be loved.

    But now I know—
    strength isn’t silence.
    It’s confession.
    It’s crying in the cave.
    It’s kissing your chaos
    and saying: You’re part of me, too.

    There’s a little Constantine in me—
    cursed and clever,
    using magic to distract from the scars.
    A little Raven—
    emotions bound in shadow,
    power barely leashed.
    A lot of Zatanna—
    saying the words backwards,
    hoping the spell finally heals what reality won’t.

    You ask who I am?
    I am the comic that bleeds between genres.
    I am queer-coded courage,
    autistic empathy in a world that demands apathy.
    I am the villain in someone’s story,
    the hero in my own.
    I am transition and transformation,
    each hormone a resurrection,
    each truth a sharpened Batarang
    thrown at the lies they fed me.

    You love my light,
    but will you stay for my shadow?
    Will you kiss the chaos in my grin,
    hold the wreckage in my ribcage,
    and see the beauty in my backstory?

    Because I am not cured.
    I am not clean.
    I am not safe in the ways the world wants me to be.
    But I am alive.
    Still here.
    Still fighting.
    Still laughing.

    A little bit Batman, a little bit Joker—
    guess you can call me the Bat Who Laughs.
    But know this—
    behind the madness is meaning.
    Behind the costume is courage.
    Behind the duality…
    is me.