We do have arms and legs
and brain stems brewing
yeast extract and demon eggs.
You don't even hear us rising.
You think it is safe to sleep.
You think we are doll heads on sticks.
You shoved us in a toy box under your bed.
You stored us in the wrong place, wrongly
assuming we couldn't figure out how to break
our way free and then snap
your dirty rotten collar bones.
Soon you will be nothing but
a small skull stuck in a sticky spider web,
surrounded by our poisonous girl doll bodies
with eight long hard legs each.
