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!