Doll of Ice

Burnt, a fading candle, inside a tiny heart. She cannot live this life as her,

a doll on a leaning shelf.

Her owner does not brush her hair,
she does not kiss her everyday,

a dusty toy she has become, and her happiness ran astray.

Grey glass eyes, hiding the true evil build up within.

She must smile, she must focus, she must not hide away her grin...

The child that once played with her,
now is only seen with "Barbie"
the child that once played with her, is stupid and only three.

What is wrong with a rag doll, herself a joyful friend, the mother of the child, must bring home now a Ken.

She will kill them in the night when everything seems quiet.

Humans such a waste of skin,
her heart a noble threat.

Late that night a stabbing occurred on a poor innocent child.

The doll laid down to rest a while, she felt happy, so she smiled.

Take a butcher knife from the shed, and stab at " ms. Barbie doll"

Stab after stab until shes dead, blood must stain the wall.

Ken oh Mr. Ken my dear, would you like a drink?

Cut open his tiny head, inside a brain so pink.

Smash it up unto pieces that are tiny enough to eat.

Kill the mother of the house so the task is left complete.

Take daddy's little razor, take daddy's little pocket knife,

sneak up on mommy and slice her, piece up daddy's wife.

The job this little doll completed, leaves the house a calming red,

its dripping off the walls,
its filling up Ken's head.

Wall decorations, the pieces of every body in the house.

Barbie such tiny feet, like a footless bleeding mouse.

Now I'm but all alone, with a house made up of red,

everything around me is the coloring of red.

The little doll crawls unto the shelf and stabs at her little heart,

All is quiet except the feet of harmless feasting mice,

To touch this doll, like winter, her body is now as cold as ice.