I dwell within a hushed facade, Where echoes wear a velvet guise— My truth, entombed in woven fraud, Beseech the depth behind your eyes. Not built of breath, but ache refined, I haunt the seams of time-worn grace. A wraith enwreathed in a restless mind, Yet starving still for sacred space. They praise the bloom, but miss the root, Mistake my shine for sovereign peace. Unheard, I sing in chords acute— A requiem that finds no cease. Oh, grant me not the light alone, But shadow’s gaze where I have been— Let silence speak in a solemn tone And name this soul who longs… be seen.