He fell down a rabbit hole,
chasing after a crazy dream
He met a rabbit with a waistcoat.
He braved the Red Queen.
He had tea with a caterpillar.
He spoke with talking flowers.
He faced his worst nightmares,
and he lived to tell the tale.
And eventually he crawled back out,
ready to face the world.
But no one believed him.
The more he told,
the more he was scorned.
And he drew farther and farther into himself,
comforting himself with stories and talking flowers,
and a rabbit in a waistcoat.
Soon that was all he had left,
stories and fantasies.
Until one day he plunged back through the rabbit hole,
grasping for a crazy dream.
There he learned the trade of making hats,
but he soon surpassed his masters and peers.
Once again he was scorned,
and he relocated to an old house with two other outcasts,
making hats and drinking tea to fill his time.
He retreated into himself once again,
this time literally becoming as mad as a hatter,
and this became his title.
And soon no one remembered his true name,
knowing only that was mad,
until his title became his name: the Mad Hatter.
Only one ever tried to know why he was mad,
and her name was Alice.
And in her presence,
he found himself, though still quite mad, less mad.
He even found that he liked it,
though he never let his other mad companions know that.
But she, too, fell back through the rabbit hole,
and he was alone,
with only fantasies and madmen to keep him company.
Until one day many years later he found a woman, wandering,
mumbling about talking flowers and rabbits with waistcoats,
almost as mad as himself.
And her name, he found, was Alice,
and in each other’s presence they found, though they were still quite mad,
they were decidedly less so.
And they found they liked it.