When hell comes knocking at your bedroom door

At the top of the staircase, To the left And across the hallway From the mirror Is a black door that you dare Not open Not fully, not halfway Not a sliver There is a sound coming from Behind it, A scraping, a scratching Of long talons And the odour that emerges Is acrid It burns the nostrils and the Back of the throat Said to be the room of the Emperor A man who gave his soul up for Immense power Tales of a mirror within That binds him That must not be reflected In the other He's The Emperor of Paramecia He's The Lord Master of Hell He's Watching you wherever you go He's Learning secrets you dare not tell