Words Of A Mircale

Mad Hatter

Madness,
Welcome all it's the mad hatter,
Who grows sadder,
His tears fill up the liquid that makes your batter,
He's growing sick of the chit chatter,
But instead of getting madder,
He grows sadder,
As things get badder,
He's releasing life as if life was his bladder,
I guess it's time for the pit padder,
Pit pit padder,
Walking away sadder,
Sadness consuming madness with its sappy like manner,
Sad is the banner,
And it's the most sad, mad, crap about the hatter,
So madder is becoming sadder,
And instead of insanity comes this eerie iniquity,
The sad hatter,
Grows even sadder,
Despite the things around him trying to happy up is madder,
Trying to push him up his mad ladder,
They wanna see the twisted loops,
But he's jumping through the hoops,
Of that one friend this,
That one friend that,
Once was pissed,
Now he's lost his hat,
The hat of which he once sat,
Could be seen skinny or fat,
Or even the shady depiction of a cat,
The bunny rabbit's, rapid rat bits,
Turned into a rabbit thinking about his final hop,
Once confusing turned into it be like that,
Once amusing turned into I felt that,
Once Mad became relatable,
The origin of my madness is often mistakable,
I guess I felt it at the dinner table,
Where the Queen of the chessboard waves over to the king of spades,
And ask each other what will it be today,
When the leaves of trees fall down to be,
Controllers on strings,
And jumanji strikes Uno in the back of the head,
Monopoly has just pronounced the Twitter feed dead,
Checkers is no longer white and black,
Its blue and red,
And the world is moving slow,
Haha you stupid slowpoke,
The frogs have finally croaked,
You flipped over the boat,
They have me by the throat,
But I can't even choke,
My life is just a joke,
My life....is...just a...joke?
Rise and fall of these pitiful games,
At hell with the teaser of brains,
At hell with the twister of tongues,
A day anew has begun,
And to I, what have become?
Feel the squares rolling off my tongue,
But the edges are getting stuck on this 90° angle,
I've got my straight lines atangled,
I'm feeling it go unrangled,
I'm sick of the table sitting at me,
Its smug expression when it takes its seat,
Constantly putting its arms and elbows on me,
My hat is drooping over,
I hate these two leaf clovers,
So sorry for the poor Grover,
Who comes to save the day,
But in the end he's the one who needs to be saved,
Sad hatter is still a hatter anyway,
So what if the vibes sent aren't insane?