But you are not Alice,
and this isn't Wonderland.
You know of the darkness
like the back of your hand.
You remember the whispers,
you sing of the ghosts.
And it's of your profession
that the devil does boast.
Because you work for the shadows,
you hide away from the light.
You're a slave to blackness
and a thief in the night.
You're so quiet in the morning,
so defenceless a creature.
And the shields in your mind
are getting weaker and weaker.
But you are not Alice,
and this isn't Wonderland.
And you know of the darkness...
like the back of your hand.
A/N prompt from the picture to the right.
