Like A Dystopian Alice

Like a dystopian Alice,
I ponder the multiple reflections,
Of a mirror that is bound to lie,
Duty built to lie,
For in the interpretation of self,
We convict ourselves with untruths,
Those need to be considered if we are to find our true self,
To be,
Free.

Like a dystopian Alice,
I have wandered far and near,
Encountering my Cheshire,
The grin an assault on all that is right and just,
Though I can no longer ponder just or right,
Should no longer my lingering companion,
My Walrus and my supposed Queen of Hearts,
Only to unearth that all I once held dear,
Was nothing more than the lie I told myself?
Nothing more,
Shattered reflection.

Like a dystopian Alice,
I splay across the dresser of my mind,
Peering deep within the mirror,
That refuses to reflect,
The black dog that haunts me,
That tries now to morph or shape shift,
Into a tabby,
Ready to pounce,
Claw my soul into submission,
Claw my mind into the inane.

Like a dystopian Alice,
I take my potion,
I get big and small,
At once and never,
I encounter the freaks of my mind,
And close my eyes to escape their grasp,
Only to discover that I can not run,
I am too late,
My date is set in stone,
Though my destiny is printed on rice paper.

Like a dystopian Alice,
Spread across the landscape of tomorrow,
I am feeling inclined,
To recline,
Into a place in my mind,
That is so dark,
That even the sun could not make days bright,
And I long to shatter the illusion of me,
As readily as the mirror that reflects my lie,
I can no longer rest on my laurels,
It is time,
It is time,
For me.

Like a dystopian Alice,
I continue to stare,
Into a far off void,
That is no longer far off,
And no longer void,
My beard transplanted,
By smeared lipstick,
The tarnished self image that must be set free,
The tarnished self image,
That now is beginning to emerge,
As a vivid soul that must dance to forever,
Always knowing,
That my forever,
Is self defined?
And achieved.

Like a dystopian Alice,
I want to break free,
I want to stand erect,
I want to be,
Everything I have always meant to be,
Leaving behind,
A wonderland that was no wonder,
And a world that was bleak,
A blight on my soul,
That now releases me,
Shape shifting,
Instantly,
Into the me I already know I am,
No longer dystopian,
No longer Alice,
No longer the me I was,
Now the me I am.

Unlike a dystopian Alice,
I am not the victim of my own mind,
I am not the victim of a fun house mirror,
Nor some story teller that writes my words,
I write my words,
I am the words,
I am my word,
I am become.

SDM

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