I feel its approach, steady and familiar,

Clinging to my hair and clothes.

Shrinking me down into almost a pinhead,

I’m playing Alice again, I suppose.

Except there is no Mad Hatter,

No delayed white rabbit or furious Queen,

Only a girl so small, so little, so tiny in fact,

She is always the last to be seen.

I love the way they laugh and live and play,

I see their faces, so careless and free

How I wish they would turn, just for a moment, please!

I wonder if they would even glance twice at me.

I remain behind my glass wall, my tormentor, my obstacle

My barbed wire fence.

Is this fair? What did I do?

To deserve an existence filled with pretence.

I drink the potion, I follow the rules,

I attend the tea party chained in jewels,

But how can a vivacious life in bloom,

Feel like sitting in an empty room?







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