Little Mrs Insanity

  Sat upon her vanity

  What is her name?

  Where is her brain?

  She peers out her fringe

  With eyes quite unhinged

  Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

  And whispers of dreams

  Of her fears and her fiends

  And as time backwards ticks

  A lever handle clicks

  A shadow appears under her door

  In the crevice where it meets the floor

  The lights flicker off

  And a black figure scoffs

  Nails dig into wood

  Something's here with tidings not good!