Split Shadows

In the silence of the dark room, he wore two faces.
One, carved in stone — a stare that could pierce through the night.
The other, a fleeting smirk — as if mocking the weight of his own silence.

Silver chains clung to his skin like memories he couldn’t shake off.
Every scar, every line on his face whispered a secret no one dared ask.
He was a storm waiting to break,
and a calm no one could trust.

In the black, there’s no past.
Only the weight of now,
and the eyes of a man who’s learned to live in halves.