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Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: inner struggle

  • Still Can’t Speak – A Poem About Silence, Anxiety, and Emotional Suppression

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    There’s a kind of silence that isn’t peaceful.

    It isn’t chosen.

    It’s something you fall into—slow at first, then all at once. A place where thoughts don’t stop, but somehow words disappear.

    This piece came from that feeling.

    From trying to speak and finding nothing there. From sinking into your own mind, adjusting to the pressure, and realizing that even when the weight lifts… something hasn’t fully returned.

    Sometimes it’s not about being overwhelmed.

    Sometimes it’s about becoming too used to the quiet.

    — Rowan Evans

    Person sitting underwater among shipwrecks with light filtering from the surface, symbolizing silence and emotional depth
    Even when you can breathe again… the silence can stay.

    Still Can’t Speak
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Silence.

    I’ve been sitting in silence,
    slipping into thoughts
    like quicksand.

    I panic—
    and sink faster.

    I open my mouth,
    but no sound comes out,
    words lost in the abyss
    of endless thought.

    Descending.

    Diving deeper
    into the unknown
    far below,
    waves crash above—

    I open my mouth again,
    take water into my lungs.

    Silence.

    Far below the waves.

    Looking up,
    I see the sun filter
    through the surface—
    light displaced,
    scattered rays.

    Without a sound,
    I’m never found.

    So there,
    on the bottom,
    among the wreckage
    of ships long forgotten—

    I sit with silence,
    waiting for the end.

    I can feel
    the pressure build,
    my bones
    growing weak.

    I feel like I’m adapting,
    or something worse
    is happening.

    The pressure lessens—
    no lesson,
    something is amiss.

    I shouldn’t be
    so used to this.

    The waves recede,
    I can breathe—

    and yet…

    I still can’t speak.

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

  • No Prince for This Sleep – A Poem About Depression, Numbness, and Self-Awakening

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    There’s a kind of numbness that doesn’t look dramatic from the outside. You’re awake, you respond, you move through the world — but something in you isn’t fully present. It’s not sleep, but it isn’t living either.

    This piece plays with the familiar idea that someone else can “wake” you. Fairy tales love that narrative. Real life doesn’t always follow it.

    Some states don’t break with a kiss.
    Some disconnection doesn’t lift just because someone cares.

    That doesn’t make it less real.
    It just means the way back has to start from the inside.

    — Rowan Evans

    Person lying awake in a dim room symbolizing emotional numbness and disconnection.
    Some states don’t break with a kiss—you have to find your own way back.

    No Prince for This Sleep
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I’m conscious—
    but not really here,
    lost in my mind,

    waiting for you
    to find me.

    It’s like I sleep
    even as I speak—
    but I’m not beautiful…

    So I’m
    sleeping ugly,

    waiting for somebody
    to come and love me—

    to wake me
    from this
    comatose apathy.

    Journey into the Hexverse!

    [Low Hum]
    Depression isn’t always loud. Sometimes it’s a quiet presence—a low hum beneath everything. This poem explores that silence, and the small moments that help break through it.

    [Right Behind My Eyes]
    A raw and introspective poem exploring dissociation, emotional distance, and the grounding power of love. Right Behind My Eyes captures the feeling of watching your life from afar–and what keeps you from disappearing completely.

    [Not Crisis, Just Constant]
    Not all struggles are loud. Some live in the background—a constant presence you learn to carry. This poem explores anxiety, isolation, and the quiet tension between wanting connection and fearing it.

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

  • Weathered – A Poem About Growth, Fear, and Facing Yourself

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    Weathered lives in the spaces between awareness and change.

    It’s easy to recognize patterns in ourselves–the ways we retreat, the ways we protect, the ways we leave before we can be left. It’s harder to sit with them. Harder still to change them.

    This piece isn’t about having the answers. It’s about standing in the storm anyway. Letting it hit, letting it string things back, and choosing not to run from it.

    Growth doesn’t always feel like progress.
    Sometimes it just feels like staying.

    — Rowan Evans

    A person standing in the rain facing a storm, symbolizing emotional endurance and personal growth
    Sometimes growth looks like standing still in the storm.

    Weathered
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I sit alone,
    asking questions—
    why am I like this?
    Why do I retreat
    inside my mind,
    when it’s you
    I’m trying to find?

    I mean—
    I know it’s because
    you mean too much
    to me.

    So I panic.

    I move inward,
    closing shutters
    to the world.

    I don’t want you
    to see me—
    not like this,
    not when you
    can perceive me.

    Because to be perceived
    for me,
    is to be left behind.
    It’s happened
    more than one time.

    So I leave first.
    I leave before it hurts.

    Again I ask—
    why am I like this?
    Why can’t I fight this?

    I just want to shake it,
    stop feeling like a mistake,
    be better.
    But better doesn’t seem
    to be in the cards for me…

    So I’ve got to learn.
    I’ve got to change
    some things—

    I need to pull myself
    back together,
    because this—

    this is a storm.
    A storm I want to stand in,
    feel the wind batter me,
    let the rain strip me bare,
    and still—
    I will weather it.

    Journey into the Hexverse

    [To Whom It May Concern…] (3/20)
    A raw exploration of vulnerability, fear, and self-sabotage—this poem captures the struggle between wanting to be seen and the instinct to hide.

    [Same Room (Emotionally)] (3/22)
    Can you miss someone you’ve never met? This poem explores emotional connection beyond physical distance and what it means to truly feel seen.

    [No Parachute] (3/23)
    A poetic reflection on falling in love without hesitation—raw, uncertain, and without a safety net.

    [When I Started to Fall for You] (3/24)
    A lyrical exploration of love’s intensity—how connection grows, transforms, and reshapes the way we experience the world.

    [Bad Habit] (3/25)
    A powerful reflection on repetitive thought patterns, emotional loops, and the moment of realizing you’re stuck inside your own mind.

    [Same Sky] (3/26)
    A poetic meditation on longing, distance, and the quiet desire to share the same space—even when worlds apart.

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