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Array
(
[sid] => 137893
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => DeMented ALice
[time] => 2007-10-17 23:23:30
[hometext] => ~the story of Alice in Wonderland, but with a demented twist~
[bodytext] => Sleeping peacefully throughout the night, hope to last right through, nothing bad has happened yet, I hope it doesn't too. The land around me changes, I try to turn around, the surroundings not familiar, Feel like I'm not on solid ground. I'm stuck inside this birdcage, with nothing but a looking glass, I feel like Alice in Wonderland, Stuck inside White Rabbit’s house. It's a tight squeeze in here, my body presses to the bars, as I stare at my reflection, In this grimy looking glass. I hear an evil laughter, ring out from up above, could it all be in my head? I'm confused, I feel unloved. I need to try and find a way, out of this tiny cell, I search for things to pick the lock, to release me from this hell. There's nothing here to help me, nothing within my grasp, except the other object, the grimy looking glass. I pick it up and gaze at it, this might just work I think, I smash the mirror on the floor, and the lock I try to pick. I grip a broken fragment, This is just not what I'd planned, but the lock is holding steady, the sharp glass cuts my hand. As blood begins to flow, a pool forms on the floor, and just like poor old Alice, my cage is carried out the door. This sea of blood surrounds me, it carries me away, to my final destination, where my hopes and dreams might lay. The cage finally breaks open, on grassland wide and green, and standing there above me, with a grin all big and mean, Is a crazy old doctor, with a glint in his eye, his laughter's subsided, "And now you must die". He's holding his needle, his mask’s in it's place, It covers the smile, that's surely on his face. I feel afraid, I feel really scared, My dream comes to an end, but then I come to realise, That there are real cuts on my hand. That dream is my reality, I’m stuck inside this life, Locked in for all eternity, That mirror was my knife. The blood does flow quite freely, From cuts upon my arm, People say I’m a nutter, Cause I constantly Self Harm. And I’ve seen that doctor quite a bit, I know him by his name, He’s certainly no Cheshire cat, Say’s I play an evil game. My life is one big fairy tale, A tale I’m here to tell, The warped version of an old classic, But in the end I go to hell. [comments] => 0 [counter] => 167 [topic] => 13 [informant] => teagy03 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )
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