In a world of shadows, where the sun won’t dare,

I sit alone on the creaking chair.

A haunted house, its whispers loud,

Yet silence is my only shroud.

The walls breathe tales of despair and dread,

Echoes of footsteps from the long-since dead.

The air, a chill, like a ghost’s faint sigh,

The darkness my partner, no stars in the sky.

Pitch black speaks, though words are few,

Its voice a void, yet hauntingly true.

"Fear not the night; it's where truths reside,

In the folds of silence where secrets hide."

I cling to the dark, my solemn muse,

In its endless depths, my thoughts diffuse.

Alone, yet not; its cold embrace

Holds me steady in this forsaken place.

Life in a dark world, a shadowed art,

Where even fear finds its way to the heart.

And on this stair, I’ll forever remain,

Bound to the darkness, my constant chain.