In the heart of desolation,
where shadows weave the tapestry of forgotten tales,
the silence speaks in silent screams.
Echoes of the unspeakable truth linger, yet never touch the ear,
leaving behind a haunting melody unheard.
The mind, a cavernous abyss,
swallows the light whole,
feasting on the ugliest truths.
What dwells beneath the skin,
what writhes in the velvet night?
Answers rest with the hollow men,
stitched together with midnight dreams,
clothed in memories soaked in ash.
The ugliest truth becomes a comfort,
its touch like a lover's caress in the dark fog.
And when the silence breathes,
it whispers your name,
drawing you into the forsaken places
where silence dares not tread.
Follow the echo and see,
enter the mind and be.