Poor little Alice, locked out of sight, with a book held tight to her chest containing stories of a place called Wonderland.

Poor little Alice, with tears in her eyes, watching as her father walked out the door, after a little thing called Adventure.

Poor little Alice, with sad little cries, curled up in her bed, both day and night, waiting for a thing called Slumber.

Poor little Alice, with hair so fine, falling in her eyes as she counted the time, wondering about a thing called Hope.

Poor little Alice, with eyes that shine, watching the windows and dancing to nothing, dreaming of a thing called Love.

Poor little Alice, with a heart so strong, getting herself all ready for prom, waited for a date that never came, and sighed at a thing called Loss.

Poor little Alice, with a smile so bright, stayed up studying late one night, she went out, with one of her friends, and laughed at a thing called Fun.

Poor little Alice, with tears so slow, snuck back in through her bedroom window, and for the first time she seemed to feel a feeling called Free.

Poor little Alice, with a life so sad, a depressed mother and a departed dad, hung out with her friends, a little too much, and was blinded by a thing called Drugs.

Poor little Alice, with skin so fair, contracted a disease, and lost all of her hair, and went through a thing called Chemo.

Poor little Alice, with a life so short, laid in her hospital bed with a book, and oh little Alice, wouldn't you know, held that book to her chest, containing stories, of a thing called Death.