Drawn in silence, edge and shade,
Where ghostly lines and forms cascade.
A kingdom built in graphite dust,
Of broken kings and queens unjust.

Eyes that hollow, lips unsaid,
Wander through the white and dread.
Flesh like pages, torn and thin,
Wrapped in shadows worn within.

Horns and thorns, and veils of ash,
Cloaks of ruin, faces rash.
Every stroke a breath, a scar,
A whisper from the world bizarre.

Use this craft where silence calls,
In faded halls and crumbling walls.
For what this pencil dares to show,
Are truths too deep for light to know.