Sleep not by the squire’s beck
Dally too long in the vale of nightshade
And the dreams of the mad will take root
The visions swirl below sight, unsuspecting
In wait for a host, a new dwelling to suit
For their only desire, to spread discontentment
Enhancing the festering of weak-willed resentment
Till any who dare to resist their hypnosis
Will succumb to the unseen onslaught by osmosis
And rising from foot in a marbled mosaic
The demons feel warmth, as control they take
Till one by one, the pixels go out
And it’s there you’ll be focussed
Though on what, there is doubt.
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