Shatter the mirror to disillusion yourself...
Feel the blood trickling down your face
dripping from your fingers...
Shards driven too deep for ordinary removal.
Isn’t that how Alice died?
One miscalculated jump,
then crash...
Headlong into her own reflection.
Ribbons, bows, and shimmering buckles...
She was quite a beautiful liar,
only I seem to be more stunning in a dress...
White lace petticoat and all.
Gender-bending with frivolous kisses...
Formality and southern respect tossed to wind,
I’ll never bow or offer my regards...
Only gentlemen can breed gentlemen.
Top hat and frock coat...
Seated at the toadstool
Three blind mice serving the Cheshire Cat...
Would you like one lump or two?
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