Alice,
Why do you run?
Alice,
You'll miss all the fun.
Alice, love,
There's nothing to fear.
Alice, child,
We're all mad here.
The Hatter, he pours;
The Cat, he grins,
Don't you see, dear?
It just begins.
Of ravens and writing desks,
Madness and war;
Come now, darling,
It's teatime, I'm sure.
Lose yourself in Wonderland,
Never to return
Back to cold reality;
That harsh life, do spurn.
With all our little tics and games,
Surely you will want to stay
Trapped within our Wonderland,
You'll go back "some other day."
YOU ARE READING
Sane
PoetryA collection of the fragmented bits of poetry and prose my soul is made of.
