Topsy-turvy World

May 6, 2008
Shaken, stirred
and running fast
slipping through the looking glass

Dark and down it goes
What she'll find there no one knows

Small and weak
she waits and hides
clawing at the monster's binds

She tips and toes
'round shrieks and scares
avoiding all their blood red stares

Eyes that bite
and souls that steal
fueling all that vengeful zeal

Her heart, it pines
it pleads and yearns
for the freedom this looking glass spurns

Will she choose them?
Sit and brood
how her story ends, you conclude.

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