And so it begins

In the darkness of the dawn
by pen and shaky hand was drawn
an image that I shan't forget
a creepy, vile silhouette.
With menace I saw it move,
as from the page to remove.
Trapped and stuck, I sat entranced
all the while this evil danced.
Wisps of smoke this flowing ink
searching, crawling, on the brink.
On the edge it won free,
stretching, growing like a tree.
Cross the table it took root,
cross the floor and through my boot.
It squeezed my skin, pricked my flesh.
It withdrew and grew, attacked afresh.
Like an oil beneath the skin,
I felt it spread and grow within.
The light grew dark, my eyes grew dim,
I drew a breath at its whim.
I left the page a clean white sheen,
with all I'd been trapped between.