🖤 Author’s Note 🖤
Each of these gospels was born from a silence I refused to keep. The 13 Mirrored Gospels is my reckoning with faith, identity, and the inherited wounds of expectation. These are not sermons for the saved — they are psalms for the broken, whispered through smoke and mirrorlight.
Read carefully.
The smoke is watching.
🖤 The 13 Mirrored Gospels 🖤
Poetry by Rowan Evans
“There are no saints in these gospels—
only shadows that learned to speak.”
— Rowan Evans
𖤐𓆩 🜏 𓆪𖤐
I. The Gospel of Mirrors
Step inside.
Watch yourself rot in reverse.
Every smile you wore as armor,
now bleeding at the edges.
The mirror never lied.
You just kept asking the wrong questions.
𖤐𓆩 🜏 𓆪𖤐
II. The Gospel of Silence
Not the silence of peace—
the silence after impact.
The quiet that follows
when every scream is spent,
and all that’s left
is the echo of your own denial.
𖤐𓆩 🜏 𓆪𖤐
III. The Gospel of Golden Lies
They dipped their cruelty in gold leaf
and called it kindness.
They said “light saves”
while tightening the noose.
Shine is not salvation.
Shine is strategy.
𖤐𓆩 🜏 𓆪𖤐
IV. The Gospel of the Sainted Wound
She told me pain makes you beautiful.
So I made myself a masterpiece.
Now they can’t look at me
without flinching.
𖤐𓆩 🜏 𓆪𖤐
V. The Gospel of Velvet Ruin
I dressed my rage in elegance—
because pretty things bleed quieter.
Because if I scream in silk,
they call it poetry,
not proof.
𖤐𓆩 🜏 𓆪𖤐
VI. The Gospel of the Haloed Knife
They told me love was soft.
So when I bled, I thought I was wrong.
Turns out, some loves
come serrated.
Turns out, mine did too.
𖤐𓆩 🜏 𓆪𖤐
VII. The Gospel of the Unknown Reflection
The mirror shows my face,
but it isn’t me—
just a shadow stitched from language,
from names that never fit.
They told me what to be:
man, believer, saved—
but I only felt the ache
between those words.
Now even silence
flinches.
𖤐𓆩 🜏 𓆪𖤐
VIII. The Gospel of Smoke-Laced Psalms
I wrote devotion in ash,
but they wanted ink.
So I choked on incense
until my prayers tasted like
what they’d believe.
𖤐𓆩 🜏 𓆪𖤐
IX. The Gospel of Unholy Softness
I offered tenderness.
They saw weakness.
I offered truth.
They called it unstable.
So now I offer nothing
but teeth.
𖤐𓆩 🜏 𓆪𖤐
X. The Gospel of Reverse Reverence
I bowed to nothing—
not out of pride,
but protection.
Every altar I’ve knelt before
asked for a piece of me.
I’ve run out of offerings.
𖤐𓆩 🜏 𓆪𖤐
XI. The Gospel of Misnamed Miracles
They called my survival
a phase.
A scream for attention.
But I was just trying
to exist loud enough
to feel real.
𖤐𓆩 🜏 𓆪𖤐
XII. The Gospel of Heretics and Honey
I tasted joy once.
Sweet. Brief.
But it rotted faster than grief.
I keep it in a jar now,
like a dead bee.
Just in case.
𖤐𓆩 🜏 𓆪𖤐
XIII. The Gospel of the Flame That Didn’t Save Me
They said fire cleanses.
But all it did
was remind me
what burning feels like
from the inside.
More Gospels, Psalms & Riddles
The Gospel of Softness III: Thirteen Psalms for the Tender-Hearted
13 Psalms of Falling: A Sapphic Confessional Litany of Softness & Sacred Ruin
Poetry by Rowan Evans 