Little Mrs Insanity

Sat upon her vanity

What is her name?

Where is her brain?

She peers out her fringe

With eyes quite unhinged

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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!