They

There are two tables in our dining room We only use one Mother sets both for every meal, laying lace, dishes and delicate glasses In a trance, she ignores our queries as to why she does it No one uses the other table But They do They are in our house Each room it’s own mirror Our night is Their day They want us here They want us forever But Mother and Father won't let us leave There are two beds in my bedroom I only use one I'm told to make both everyday, pulling the covers up and arranging pillows Cursing as I'm forced to clean a bed I didn't use No one uses the other bed But They do Every night I wake to an outstretched hand reaching for my throat But Father says it's nothing Just a nightmare, for we are victims to the darkness Victims to this house, is what I think It wants us They want us There are two sofas in the living room We only use one But both are used, cleaned and sat on frequently I don't know how No one uses the other sofa But They do They will do whatever it takes to get us Our lives are trophies to Them They will win the battle and we will live no longer For our lives are now Their’s to take There are three tables in the dining room.