Whispers of The Anguished Man

In shadows deep, where silence weeps, A canvas holds a tale that keeps, The anguished face, a hollow scream, A void of terror, a waking dream. With eyes like pits, void of light, He roams the halls of endless night, Each stroke a memory, twisted, torn, A spirit bound, forever worn. The brush that dipped in sorrow’s well, Captured grief no words can tell, In every hue, a ghostly plea, The echoes of what used to be. They say at dusk, when shadows swell, You hear his pain; you feel the spell, A mournful cry that chills the air, The anguished man, forever bare. So tread with care through haunted halls, Where brush and soul beg darkness’ calls, For in his gaze, despair shall reign, The anguished man, a heart in chains.