Poems

Individual poems

Legacy of Alice

Legacy of AliceAlicia’s name, in stone engraved,The first to walkwhere none were saved.Through Wonderland’sdespairing skies,Her legacy never truly dies. She danced with phantoms, grasped the fire,And faced the stormsalone.Her spirit stands where all expire,A pillar carved in stone. Her whispers linger in this place,a voice both fierce and kind,A compass through the shattered maze,where reason’s […]

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Humpty’s Fall

Humpty’s Fall“Supposed” is a word for ghosts—should have, could have,didn’t.Do what the smoke does: rise, curl, vanish,linger where it hurts the most.Ask better questions,or just sit and let the willies nest in your hair.In the end the answer’s always the same shapewhispered a different way—Will you… and will he…and which one are you really asking

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Into Noplace

Into NoplaceWelcome to Noplace, where the rules are ripped apart,Where the land itself is bleeding, and the void consumes yourheart.Twisted laughter fills the air, the shadows writhe and play,In Noplace,there’s no tomorrow, only pieces of today. Can you hear it? The pulse beneath,a heartbeat made of pain,The crooked pulse of a broken world,a place that’s

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Hatter’s Descent

Hatter’s DescentOutroIn the hush between your heartbeats,when the world forgets to sing,If you feel a chill that almost sounds like coinsand broken rings,Know I am sitting where the darkand almost mercy intersect,Waiting in the quiet with a deck of fraying choicesyet unchecked,Waiting in the corners of the ceilingand the cracks beneath your door,Waiting in thethin

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Hatter’s Willies

Hatter’s WilliesFinal ChorusI give you the willies,that buzzing in your veins when you realize no one’s steeringand the tracks have all gone strange,I give you the willies,that razor thread of choice that slices you from throat to feetand hands you back your voice,Will he keep you, will he free you,will he take the blow insteadand

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Grim Ballet

Grim BalletWelcome to the marionette’s grim ballet,where bodies twist and contort in a merciless play under lights that flickerlike dying nerves,I am the puppeteer, dread’s only landlord,standing backstage with my fingers wrapped in wire,my strings carve terror with a silent sword,slicing through your autonomy until nothing remains but the jerkand sway I dictate,every tendon in

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