Figurines There is this little girl, A very strange little girl, Who likes to play With her clay figurines In her house’s attic. She is an abnormality, With but her figurines For company. Yet they are better friends Than most humans can be. There is this little girl, A very strange little girl, Who goes by the name of Laura. She shapes clay Into human forms Which she then brings to #life. Her eyes are ash, Her hair is coal, And her face is as pretty as can be. Her nose is pointy, Her lips are full, And she is always giddy. She laughs by herself, As she talks to her clay Figurines. She is quite a sight to behold, A vision to see unfold, A picture frame worth more than gold. Laura loves to play With her clay Figurines. They keep her busy for many days And many nights In a row. There is this little girl, A very strange little girl, Who has the power of #life. She makes little clay hearts, Which then, with a sweet kiss She blesses So it will be filled with a soul And start beating. Into the clay figurines The beating clay hearts go. The clay figurines Then burst into #life, Moving like a humans, Looking like humans, Behaving like humans, Yet just not human. There is this little girl, A very strange little girl, Who is treated like a freak. Like an aberration, A demon, A monster. They say she moves like humans, Looks like humans, Behaves like humans, Yet she is just as human As her clay figurines Who are yet just not human. But Laura never gets sad. She is glad For fear keeps them all away, It keeps her safe It keeps her little clay figurines safe Where no one can touch them, Where no one can find them. They are her secret, The one thing she has to herself And to herself only. And so she is glad. She knows that if they found out She would burn at the stake Like her mother And all her ancestors Like the witches they were. So she keeps quiet Up in her house’s attic Where no one can find her Or her clay figurines That dance And prance Around and around her giddy form. There is this little girl This very strange little girl, Who goes by the name of Laura. A witch she is, Blessed and cursed With the power over #life. So she stays With her clay Figurines. They are her only friends And she doesn’t even mind For they are better friends Than humans could ever be. A new family moved into her house Not too long ago. So she hides herself And her clay figurines In that darkened attic. She's disguised As the cutest doll you will ever Lay your eyes upon, She tricks little girls into playing with her Into loving her, Into taking her with them Wherever they go. Until she turns back In the middle of the night, While the little girls are asleep And sucks their souls Out of their beating hearts, Of which she then feeds on. She knows one soul Must be taken Before another Can be given. ‘Tis the law of #life, No one can create a #life, Without a sacrifice. To make a new friend, Someone must die, And she is always Expanding her collection Of clay figurines. There is this little girl, A very strange little girl, Who goes by the name of Laura. She is a peculiar one, That she is, And no one can deny. She hides in that house’s attic And tricks girl after girl So she can make another figurine. Laura still remains there As she will Forevermore With only her clay Figurines For company. *not quite a #poem, not quite a story. I classify this simply as "writing".