"Nothing kills man faster than his own head." Twenty One Pilots, Trapdoor
There is a special place,
A place real far,
Where reality meets fantasy.
If you follow the brick road,
You will come across a whitewashed house,
A small little cottage hidden among the trees.
Inside sits a man,
A man full of mystery,
And a loss of reality.
He once had a magic hat,
A hat that could take him to any place,
Every place he had ever dreamed of.
The only thing was that the man had only dreamed of one place,
His home, with his family.
Others saw what the hat could do,
And their greed demanded it,
They couldn't possibly live without this magic hat.
One day, a queen came by,
A queen full of greed and evil,
You could see her malignance radiating from her.
She had traveled far and wide for the hat,
She was in need of it,
And she was in need of a magician to use it.
The man had no use for silver or gold,
But his son had grown in dirt,
Barely having enough to eat.
The man, with his pure heart,
Took 30 silver coins in exchange for one trip,
One trip to take the queen anywhere she wished.
He told his son he would be back,
And then he set off,
One hand holding the hat, the other the hand of the queen.
All he had wanted,
Was a future for his son,
A future where poverty wasn't a thing.
But the queen couldn't let that happen,
Happiness disgusted her,
And brave deeds only merited despise.
She took the man to a land,
A land of foul creatures,
A very little life.
The man wondered what they were doing there,
And then it dawned on him.
They both leaped for the hat,
But alas, he was too late.
Without the hat,
You can't go anywhere.
The man had to go back,
He had promised he'd be back.
So he set out,
To make a magic hat,
A hat that would bring him back home.
If you ever visit this magical land,
Be sure to stop by and have some tea,
And maybe the man will tell you a story.
If you are brave enough to set foot in his house,
You might spot a hat, here or there,
And the man's hands, well they are always sewing something,
Perhaps another hat.
When you first walk in,
You might confuse the man's misery with happiness,
For over the years his mind had slipped away,
And all you can ever hear is his laughter,
The laughter of the mad hatter.
YOU ARE READING
Uncertain: A Set of Poems
PoetryI was angry with the world, with myself for being such a fool. I was tired of being this way, of not being understood. These poems were of times where one girl couldn't fight the world with her fists so she grabbed a pen and her favorite red little...
