Puppet Master 2 (1991)
What do I see at night
when I wake from sleep?
A puppet coming alive,
on the shelf in my room.
It creaks.
It groans.
Its head spins around.
It can’t be real.
It’s a wooden puppet.
No one to pulls its strings.
Until it speaks.
In a deep voice.
It can’t be alive.
Until it says,
“Time to play.”
I run to the door.
It can’t be.
It’s standing before me.
Taller than me.
Arms reaching to me.
A gleam in its black eyes.
It can’t be.
But it is.
It’s alive.
No comments:
Post a Comment