Author’s Note

This poem started as play.

I wasn’t trying to be deep or careful — I was letting my brain sprint, letting pop culture, mythology, and intrusive thoughts collide on the page. Comics, villains, alter egos, masks — all the familiar metaphors we use when our minds feel too loud to live in quietly.

What surprised me wasn’t the darkness, but the balance. This isn’t a descent — it’s a return with awareness. Standing in the light doesn’t mean pretending the shadows don’t exist. It means no longer fearing them.

This is what it feels like when poetry stops being a tool and starts being a force — when the ink takes over, and you let it.

Back to Darkseid
Poetry by Rowan Evans

I walk in,
ready to rock
like a shock
to the system.

Watch me
ghost ride the whip,
hit you with the
penance stare.

Watch as you become
hyper aware
of every misdeed,
and every sin seeps
into the veins.

It circulates
until it hits
the brain.

Lights out.

Silence.

My noggin’s
an asylum,
I’m sick in the head.
Coin flip of fate,
I’m two-faced
with my joker’s thoughts.

I’m a dark knight,
on a dark night—
fighting the monsters
that my mind creates.

Don’t try to figure me out.
I’m an enigma, a riddle
with no answer.

A twisted harlequin
in a garden
made by Ivy.
Each petal unfurls,
guiding—
leading me back
from the edge.

Now I’m standing in the light,
back to Darkseid—
I no longer fear
Apocalypse.

Watch my ink
twist into tendrils.
Watch as they
wrap around,
and creep up
my spine like venom.
Watch as poetry
slowly,
takes over
my mind.

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