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?