The Haunted Doll

In the corner of the room, she waits with a smile.
Eyes that follow you, every step, every mile.
Her porcelain skin cracked, but she’s full of spite.
A twisted little toy in the dead of night.

The whispers start slow, a voice in your head,
telling you things you wish you had never read.
She moves when you’re not looking. That’s how it starts.
She’s clawing her way straight into your heart.

Each night she creeps closer. The room turns cold.
Her eyes burn through you. Her grip takes hold.
You can’t escape–she’s woven her spell.
The line between nightmare and real is hell.

She’s the haunted doll, with a mind of her own.
You’ll never be alone when you’re trapped in her throne.
She’ll whisper your name and make your world fall apart.
She’s the haunted doll, playing her part.

You scream, but no one can hear the sound.
She’s dragging you down where the demons are crowned.
You’re not the first, and you won’t be the last.
The haunted doll is here to make sure you’ll crash.

And when you’re finally broken, when you’ve lost all your hope,
she’ll be waiting there, dangling from a rope.
The haunted doll will never let go.
You’ll be her puppet, until the end of the show.