The Dollhouse

I dreamed of a place,
That had no humans anywhere,
Of stained table cloths and dresses,
And bloodied silverware.

Patchwork toys,
All lined up in rows,
Each with a limb missing,
With red eyes that seemed to glow.

Bandaged bodies,
Cracked heads,
Mutilated yet grinning,
As if I would be next.

There was a rabbit,
That once was white,
That had sockets for eyes,
Whom glared at you at night.

In the shadows he sat,
Watching with intent,
Blood that dripped from his left eye,
Landed on a knife that was bent.

We're all mad here,
Thats what he said,
Cackling hysterically,
Plunging it into his head.

The doors swung back and forth,
Each time the light shone,
On different deranged faces,
Whom had nowhere to go.

A set of spiked jacks,
Arranged around the house,
There was no getting out,
Hissed the clockwork mouse.

His key was missing,
Yet he still ticked on,
Stiches made his mouth grin,
Which made me hope he was wrong.

Plush toys, big and small,
With their stuffings ripped out,
Began to claw at his eyes,
While i tried to find another route.

Screams of pain trickled out,
As his blood joined others on the wall,
Before they could attack me,
The dollmaker called...