I am alice.

There's a chokehold on my throat,
There's a clamp upon my words,
There's a lion,
in a cage,
ready to let out rage and meaningless words.

There's a fire in my eyes and a sadness in my words.

Trying just seems to make it worse.

There's a heavy weight dragging down my feet,
Eyes watching waiting for my defeat,
as I become less inside,
less empty,
more numb.

I shrink smaller
and smaller,

I dissolve into nothing and when I leave the room the absence means nothing.

I dissolve till I don't know who am, where I've been or where I'm going, drifting like wood in a blank space, a collective of empty words fill the blank walls.

There's a bell caught by the wind trapped between my wrists,
But there is heaven,
right there within the deadly bottled poison,
within liquid,
within shattered dreams.

There's peace in the toxins,
in round prescription bottles,
I am almost numb,
almost nothing,
almost free.

Almost...

Alice was in wonderland,
she thought she coulhd run away,
she thought self-medication could save her from a
Lonely,
Deadly,
Fate.

She never had many friends,
at school she barely spoke a word,
her sacred woven treasure chest contained her only words.

She wore the marks of a warrior,
a black cloak,
she tried to shake it off but
her parents knew something was wrong but couldn't see past the mask.

I am not alice.