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Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: coping

  • Since I Was Thirteen (Fluent in Survival) – Rowan Evans Poetry

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    This poem is not about wanting to die.
    It is about learning how to survive long before learning how to live.

    A shadowed figure in a dimly lit room, reflecting in solitude, surrounded by deep shadows and soft light, evoking introspection and survival.
    Reflecting on survival, solitude, and the quiet strength found in shadows.

    Since I Was Thirteen (Fluent in Survival)
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I feel like I’m lost,
    I’m wandering.
    Twisted thoughts,
    I’m pondering.

    My demise
    in a life I despise.
    It’s not that I want to die—
    I’m just tired
    of trying to survive.

    I want to be happy.
    I’m alive.

    But my head
    is so full of dread—
    every morning
    a negotiation
    just to get out of bed.

    Body feels heavy,
    limbs lagging—
    everything moves
    in slow-motion.

    Slipping into shadows—
    going home.
    The light has never felt like mine.
    I was born in the shadows,
    raised in the shade.
    Darkness has been
    my mindscape—
    since I was thirteen.

    I learned early
    how to make myself small—
    how to soften my footsteps
    inside my own head.

    I memorized the weight of silence,
    learned which thoughts were safe to keep
    and which ones
    needed to stay buried.

    Survival became a second language,
    spoken fluently,
    even when no one was listening.

    I say I’m alive
    like it’s a defense—
    like survival
    should be enough.

    But living
    feels like something other people do
    without rehearsing it first.

    Closing Note

    I wrote this for anyone who learned survival before they learned safety.
    For those who are still here, even when “alive” feels like a negotiation.
    You are not failing — you are fluent in something the world never taught gently.

    For more poetry, check out the archives: [The Library of Ashes]

  • Slow My Mind – A Poetic Exploration of Restless Thoughts and Fragile Calm

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    I dwell in a mind that will not rest, a labyrinth of whispers and claws. Inhale, exhale—Mary Jane becomes my temporary sanctuary, a borrowed grace against the storm within. This poem is a confession to that restless shadow, a devotion to fragile moments of calm, and an ode to the quiet endurance of a soul perpetually awake in its own chaos.

    Solitary figure in a smoky, dimly lit room, lost in thought amid curling tendrils of smoke.
    Seeking fragile calm in the midst of a restless mind—Slow My Mind by Rowan Evans.

    Slow My Mind
    By Rowan Evans

    I smoke to slow my thoughts—
    ‘Cause my brain, it talks too much.
    In the haze, I steal a breath,
    A fleeting peace, a borrowed hush.

    Chaos claws in every corner,
    Rapid-fire whispers, sharp and cruel.
    Each one a knife against my skull,
    A storm that never sleeps, never yields.

    Mary Jane, my temporary friend,
    In your smoke, the noise may bend.
    You hush the fire, you blur the ache,
    A fleeting balm, a fragile break.

    I light the flame, inhale the calm,
    Feel the tension curl from my palm.
    In tendrils of smoke, I seek a place
    Where the world moves slower, soft, displaced.

    Yet even in your smoky grace,
    I know relief will not embrace
    The truths I hide, the shadows I keep—
    A restless mind, a wakeful sleep.

    Your comfort is a borrowed hand,
    A fragile lifeline in shifting sand.
    And still, I return, inhale, endure,
    For one more moment, one more cure.

    I smoke to slow my thoughts—
    ‘Cause my brain will never rest.
    In this haze, I find my ground,
    A fragile calm, a quiet quest.

    Closing Thoughts

    Even in the haze, even when the mind won’t rest, I endure. One breath. One moment. One fragile shard of calm to hold onto.

    Journey into the Hexverse

    Journey into the Hexverse

    Step into the Hexverse, where ink drips like blood and shadows weave stories of desire, chaos, and devotion. Each poem is a spark—an echo of fire, a fragment of soul. Traverse these realms and meet the voices that haunt, seduce, and illuminate:

    Punchline – Rowan Evans
    – A dark comedy of survival, laughter, and jagged grace.

    Sanguine Serenade – HxNightshade
    – A hymn of forbidden desire, passion, and whispered lust.

    Beneath the Skin – B.D. Nightshade
    – The intimate torment of craving and surrender, a fevered dance with pain.

    Step closer. Let each verse pull you deeper, a winding path through shadow and flame, until you emerge transformed—scarred, awed, and fully awake in the Hexverse.

    ✦ Poetic Commissions by Rowan Evans ✦

    Every word I write is a devotion, a fragment of shadow and light carefully shaped into verse. On my Ko-fi, I offer custom poems, personalized rituals in language, and lyrical messages crafted just for you—or someone you wish to honor, surprise, or remember.

    Whether you seek:

    A poem for a loved one, friend, or muse

    A ritualized or thematic verse for special occasions

    A written reflection to say everything you struggle to

    …each commission is approached with care, reverence, and the intensity of my signature Neo-Gothic Confessional Romanticism.

    ✨ Special Offer: Use code NGCR25 at checkout to receive 25% off any commission until the end of the month. Let these words become your keepsake, your offering, your moment of devotion.

    Ko-Fi