I Fear the doll


In the corner of my room,
There is a line twixt light and gloom,
And perched in velvet finery,
Mary Anne, she waits for me,
Watching, watching glassy eyes,
Never sleeping, open wide,
I peek at her from in my bed,
Her blood red lips and ivory head,
Biding time 'til I can keep,
No longer from a fitful sleep,
For if I slumber, then I'm sure,
From darkness 'cross my bedroom floor,
The pitter pat of tiny feet,
Those china hands upon my sheet,
She'll claw and scrape until she stands,
My heaving throat within her hands,
Then crush the very life from me,
There's no escape from such as she,
So here I cower at midnights toll,
I dare not sleep, I fear the doll.


Olias