Alice fell down a rabbit hole.
Now she thinks she's insane.
She remembers the smirk of the Cheshire Cat,
And the willow tree beneath she sat.
But she climbed out of that damn rabbit hole,
And covered in dirt and scarred with magic,
Stumbled for her mother, soaked in red (RED) blood,
But all she could think about was the odd tilt of the Hatter's hat.
But that couldn't be. She agrees with her Mother,
With the ones in white coats and haunted smiles.
They pinned her down and jabbed needles in her fair skin.
They shaved off her golden locks and scrubbed her flesh until the smell of cake and potions slithered away.
They broke her down with the electric shock of eels and plastic bottles of white pills.
"RED!" She screamed. "THEY MUST BE RED!"
But they didn't understand. Of course they wouldn't.
She was in Wonderland.
She was insane.
YOU ARE READING
The Ghost of an Echo: A Mad Collection of Mad Poet Poetry
PoetryAn absolutely MAD Collection of Poetry by yours truly. Spiral into outer space and ride rollercoasters of mayhem and wonder. Anxiety is real. It's time we talk about it. New poems every week! #1 in whimsy #4 in fantastical
