My mind spins and turns
jumbled with random desires,
a never ending rabbit hole.
Yet I’m left with bumps and bruises
and your fall is cushioned by curiosity.
This is not how I pictured Wonderland.

How is it that I’m mad as a hatter
But smile as easy as the Cheshire?
The difference is you can grow and shrink
at the nibble of a cake.
Still I’m left feeling small.
This is not how I pictured Wonderland.

Yet you get to wake
when this dream turns into a nightmare,
but some of my nightmares
have become my reality.
So when is it my chance to wake up?
This is not how I pictured Wonderland.

Maybe we aren’t so different in the end.
Being stared at has become normal.
Constantly asked, “Who are you?”
To simply answer, “I don’t quite know.”
“Do you suppose she’s a wildflower?”
What’s so bad about that?

But my name is not Alice
and this is not how I pictured Wonderland.