Alice’s heart was a drum in her chest,
As the mirror gave way to a splintering quest.
The looking-glass fractured, a web-work of pain,
And her ordinary world fell to pieces like rain.
A thousand bright shards, each a different design,
Held a hundred new Alices, and none of them fine.
There was one with a frown, and one with a smirk,
And one bent with years, a sinister work.
“Which one is me?” she cried out to the glass,
As her selfhood dissolved, a bewildering mass.
A whisper, a sneer, a laugh like a chime,
Each reflection was stealing a moment of time.
Then the mirror erupted, a whirlwind of might,
And carried her off in a chaos of light.
She saw her true self, a reflection so bold,
Wave goodbye as the new story, now fractured, unfolds.
The Crazymad Writer Writes Again 