I talk to the chair
I argue with people
Not even there
The teacup and I
Are quite friendly, at least
The clock and the candle guy
Work for the Beast
I wander the castle
And sing with the dresser
My pillows, the priest
And the chaise, my confessor
It's hard to be lonely
When completely surrounded
By anthropomorphic objects
Who confound me
The dining set feeds me
These little green pills
The hat stand repeatedly
Tells me I'm ill
So I bury my head right
Far down in a book
And only come up
When the Beast comes to look
They say when I'm "lucid"
I call him my husband
But he locked me up here
I've been told by the dustbin
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