Mr. Linden's Library
Is growing, sprouting, swirling, creeping
Leather covers sewn with vines
Are, once opened, never shut
Little girl while you sleep
In the dark there will grow
An evil that you have yet never known
Ink letters form beautiful horror
He had warned her about the book
Now it was too late.
The lamp it throws shadows
Shadows to steal
And the vines will grow.
You should shut the book, little girl,
But you can't.
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