They Watch Me

Beady little eyes,
stare at me in the night
but I don't mind.
Hundreds of eyes,
all focused on me.
Most of them
intend to protect.
But some,
have a
look,
one of malice,
painted on their
porcalin
faces.
Faeries.
With black butterfly wings.
Dragons.
Who breathe burning fire.
Cherubs.
With angel faces.
One world,
confused.
Confused with
right and wrong.
And the line that
separates them.
I.
I sit still,
as the room burns around me,
The music,
from a little girl's
kitten music box,
crackling
in the heat.
One doll still stands.
It turns
and music plays.
The paint scorched,
peels and flakes away.
Until only the eyes stay,
watching me.
Constantly,
never blinking,
never missing a thing.
Does is disturb me?
No.
It has always been that way.
And that is
how it will always be.