ABOUT: This poem is, well, very dark. And strange. I don't really know what to say about it because when I wrote it, I don't know what I was writing it about. That scares me a little. It's obviously based on my love for Alice in Wonderland, and I guess the idea that something good and innocent can go horribly wrong under the right (or, rather, wrong) circumstances. Needs some editing. Click here to read more poems.

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Dear Alice
We're all mad down here, dear Alice,
All of us are mad.
Won't you have a drink, dear Alice?
Have a drink, or two!
One will make you big,
And one will make you small.
But you're already small, dear Alice,
The Queen has made you small.
She wants off with your head, dear Alice,
But you've already lost it -
Lost it back while having tea.

Have a drink, dear Alice!
Have a drink, and grow!
But you can't reach the drink, dear Alice,
Can't reach it past the damn old cat.
The Cheshire cat
With his sleazy smile,
His sly, knowing grin
That burns like a crescent sun.
It burns you deep inside, dear Alice,
But hooks you nonetheless.

You're hooked once again, dear Alice,
Hooked and hung up on his grin.
But things are different now, dear Alice,
Things have all gone wrong.
He smiles his toothy, knowing grin -
His jagged teeth, they gleam -
They gleam with your fresh blood, dear Alice,
Your blood and tattered remains.

You should have had the drink, dear Alice,
The drink to make you grow.
But he was in your way, dear Alice,
And you got stuck so small.
Small small ever so small,
Small like a frightened mouse.
A dormouse, perhaps, dear Alice,
A crazy little dormouse.
The Cat likes dormice, dear Alice,
The Cat enjoys eating mice.
Tiny little mice, dear Alice,
Tiny mice like you.