I have many chambers, but may house no guests. You can play my strings, But I cannot rest.

I’m worn in photos, shared with ease, a silent sign meant just to please.

The maze beneath forgotten town, Where dead may walk without a sound, A single sprawl of spooky lair, Or perhaps a tool for feline’s hair-?? ...Oh come on, who made a joke of the riddle? That fourth line was terrible!

You dip, then write with what I provide, though I sit still and hold ink inside.

What has a head, a tail, is brown, and has no legs?