A little house in the forest
One rented, never bought
Sat all alone in it's decay
In a forest that's mostly forgot
But if you get it's name
And go inside to explore
You'll get to see the many wonders
That you've never seen before
You'll enter inside a dreamland
One that you just can't forget
You'll enter inside their land
The gate before the pit
But there's one little destination
That stands above them all
More than the lake that's a grave to most
There's The Mother, making her call
"Come here to me, lost one,
For I have a room to spare.
Come here to me, lost one,
My lovely lodging you can share."
You'll giggle inside
And you'll believe her too
And you'll walk inside next
Just like I said you would do
Then you'll notice some pictures
They're lovely on the wall
Each one more grotesque
All speaking on curses and their falls
One is of an old man
With his hand burning red
He's staring at you mad
He's thinking in his head
Another portrait is of a woman
Her face has no love
Her arms are thin and long
She's looking from above
The third frame is an elderly woman
Her eyes are a little empty
She's smiling with a sweet face
But you know she's not friendly
You'll see all these people
And you'll shiver at their sight
But The Mother is showing you her art
And she hopes it's in your delight
Then you'll find a bed
And in it you will rest
You'll wake up in the morning from nightmares
One after the next
You'll then proceed to walk down the halls
And once again look in what's framed
But you'll realize they were only windows
And you've seen the faces of the ashamed.
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YOU ARE READING
The People in the Pictures
HorrorA short horror poem based on this two sentence horror story: "Sleep did not come easily to me that night in the cabin in the woods, for the portraits on the wall only portrayed the deformed, the decrepit, and the damned. Sleep has never come easily...