I was born Alice,
Falling down dark holes of confusion and grief,
Creating a small, glimmering world of my own.
A world which no one could see,
Which no one would want to see.
But a world in which I was content
To dwell alone. But not truly.
I was not comfortable.
I was restless. Hurting.
Chasing rabbits,
Unaware that they were always,
Always chasing something else.
And so I wandered and wondered
Alone.
Still blinking in a daze at the blinding world
That I'd surrounded myself with
Despite my loneliness.
But then I met a curious individual
Who unlike all the others,
Seemed to see the wonders I'd created,.
He was perfectly, undeniably Mad.
And I sprinted towards the familiar madness,
Stunned by the accidental speed,
As I only had time to blink twice before
The Mad Boy and I were skipping in circles,
Screaming flat, mixed notes,
And I had a child's grin on my face.
And then we were drinking a tea which filled us with delight,
Inducing cackling laughter as we
Stood by the rail of a glimmering bridge we'd created,
Pitching perfect, pristine teacups over the edge
While harvesting the chipped, stained ones,
Which we found more beautiful than the others.
Soon we were sprinting through a field of roses,
Accidentally trampling some
With his strange, glowing, purple and orange boots
And my weathered, black, out of character mary janes.
Sprinting faster, faster until
We reach a field of mismatched wildflowers.
And I have just enough time to share final glance
With my Mad Boy
Before I take my third blink.