Looks can always be so very dangerously deceiving
Playing tricks with the images our eyes are receiving
I once knew a lady, seemingly so quiet and unassuming
No tell tale signs shown of the menace closely looming
She climbed within herself for her own preservation
Spent childhood as a victim of ridicule and predation
Now a young woman her escape can be found in books
Living inside stories, blind to strangers spiteful looks
Obsession with the written word became her new elation
A book found by chance one day became her true salvation
A tome of times gone by, and the southern most traditions
Leather bound and heavily laden with fact cloaked as fiction
A thick and tattered volume replete with ceremonial ritual
Told her of a remedy from misery’s grasp, dark and spiritual
To find another pass time, and become a collector of a kind
Crafting miniature likenesses of her tormentors left behind
Crudely made dolls of people who have long gone away
The ones who left their marks, her pain was here to stay
She’s been hard at work, has amassed quite a collection
One for each antagonist, following books direction
One for every wicked child that taunted her at school
Because we all know that children can be so very cruel
Another for the man in her youth, one that she called “DAD”
For all the secrets he made her keep, just so sick and bad
More for the others who made her frightened and afraid
And the rest that just looked away leaving her betrayed
The time has come, the book foretold, to finally be avenged
Finding creative ways to take her “pound of flesh” revenge
Gathering up some needles, pots and pans, candles and the like
She comes frenzied with torturous plans of retaliation’s strike
Needles in dolls of the children, their words were sharp as pins
Candles burn the ignorant, she looks away, they burn for their sins
She has dealt with each and every one, her tyrants of times past
All but one remaining, she purposefully saved the worst for last
Forgive me “Father” for I have sinned as down comes a rusty blade
To he who gave her life, life in living hell, a debt must now be paid
The doll it cuts so easily, and the sharp blades sever through
Pins slide right into the eyes as his daughter’s pleasure grew
The puppet seemed to scream in pain when doused in boiling oil
She has one last thing in store for him, with an evil grin she toils
Now grabbing makeshift father, at the feet she starts to pull
A frightening ripping, tearing sound, retribution plan comes full
The evil grin that crossed her lips as the doll was split in two
Far beyond mere words, Ancient evil scripture dubbed it Voodoo
JMC813 