New Directions of Alice

that night a forest grew in my mind
a wonderland all the same
a place of great evil and despair
a place not one of a kind
but no ones truly to be blamed
and lived there a man with bright red hair

criss cross are the tangles of my dreams
he weaves my hand to the paper
he directs my moral compass
always pointing north
onward and forward i must go
through the darkness i must follow

not enough time to ask questions
only enough sand left to run
north is the direction of my discontent
south lies the body of myself
a soul trapped in limbo
struggling from the edge of darkness

is this what its come to?
must we not chose who we are anymore?
who are you do you know?
am i the mad hatter of my own dreams?
who am i ?
what am i doing here...

~Marc