I used to be like Alice in Wonderland,
Blazing knee-high neon-striped socks,
Collection of striking skirts and scarves,
Roaming streets and campus of Ottawa,
Heeding the call of ‘Who are you?’,
Migraines much like Carroll had,
Waking up October to a foreign world,
Wondering if I too was down the rabbit hole,
Carrying a pink-paged pocketbook journal,
Random thoughts and headaches collected together,
Heading home from the Bytowne seeing Emily the Strange,
Without her cats but always to my left,
A shadow playfully swinging on lamp posts,
Later becoming cruel and harsh,
Tugging my left arm into empty streets,
I now know the truth of florid psychosis,
A frightening land of its own,
My hair is cut just like it was back then,
But unlike Alice, I do not plan to return.
kaleidoscopeonline.ca 