have you ever seen a fairy, an elf or a sprite?
they often look so friendly,
yet they can fill the soul with fright.

have you ever looked real closely, looked at that little grin?
they appear to be so happy,
yet madness lies within.

even in the storybooks, the pictures are the same,
the elves dance round that old toadstool,
as they drive someone insane.

it's not love on those faces, or peace or truth or joy,
it's the glee that they derive,
from some helpless little boy.

his mother, she meant well, reading him to sleep,
but she left the pages open,
and from off of them they creep.

he knows that they are there, to torment him in his bed,
but he's too afraid to move,
in case they will see red.

the creatures creep forth faster, breaking from the page,
what will the poor chap do right now,
to save him from their rage.

he hears the wings start beating, against the papers face,
he screws up his eyes and holds his breath,
and dreams of another place.

those magic folk of another land, sense their chance is near,
and make more effort breaking free,
when the child loses a tear.

his heart is beating faster, than it's ever done before,
it almost stops when he hears the sound,
of his closing bedroom door.

their presence is much closer, he feels it deep inside,
and as his cover gets pulled off,
he really could have cried.

his eyes they do spring open, for the horror he must greet,
but instead of them,
standing there, is his mother fair and sweet.

she shuts the book, locks them creatures faraway,
the boy he smiles and takes a breath,
for they didn't get him, not today.