"That curious lean of his head..."
He's simply watching as we write.
Before this nightmare I have always been a writer.
"This outlet was supposed to be a haven for just that..."
Instead of a chronicles of the horror that now haunts us.
The pen is flicking across the page.
"The pitch black inspiration spattered across the canvas of such pure degradation..."
Once more the madness becomes one unified mind.
He stands there silent yet so triumphant.
"As we lastly do His bidding..."
Among us all the Mannequin holds the power.