It is 8:30

My life will soon end

Oh, it has been a pleasure

To watch it all end

I sit here hiding

Watching it unfold

Lies, Secrets & Mysteries

Have all been told

Never wrong the wrongdoers

Because they are never right

Sitting in the closet 

Clutching my pen

This diary page is so utterly thin

Having all the mannequins off the bed

Standing by the door, hand in hand

My red dress soaked in bleach

And my church dress soaked in blood

The mannequins are staring through the closet door

Watching old tapes from years before

They are frightening to me

I keep writing to the extent

The dresses have been cleaned

But they are still so dirty

The tapes are running

But the film is out

The mannequins can still see me

With their glaring eyes

No sound, no oxygen

Where am I?

Funland, where everything is real

But some are fake

Phony is not the word

For my troubled state

The dresses will fit in my casket tomorrow

With flowers and rose petals

On every lasting hour

The mannequins are gone

So am I