She basks in the warm light from the window
Despite knowing that she should not be there.
Alas, she has nowhere else she can go
As Winter brings malicious arms to bear.
She lives alone, and she's always alone.
She's self-obsessed and bitter though she's young.
Though not so young, for she is almost grown,
In stature, yes, but not in mind and tongue.
For she thinks ugly thoughts, and speaks the things
That others would know better than to say.
She is Trouble, and the terror that brings
The children's screams at the end of the day.
Her life is our Nightmares personified,
And hers began the day her parents died.