In the hush of the midnight hour, beneath the moon's eerie glow,

Lies a house shrouded in darkness, where things are not as they show.

A strange collection rests within, each with a soul of its own,

An army of haunted dolls, in the silence, they whisper and moan.

Fragile faces of porcelain, eyes vacant yet somehow alive,

Each one holds a tale, a ghostly spirit they strive to revive.