Like Alice

syllables after syllables
letters after letters
she typed and she typed
like a myriad of broken hearts, the words bled out.

Like Alice, she stepped into the unknown
a familiar ache with a new face

Like Alice, with the fluctuating body size
she, with the waves of emotion she bears everyday.

The sense of foolishness.
The tingle of desperation
A reach that never seems to reach.

An effort, flushed down the drain.

She misses the way it was
The occasional boredom, the need to be needed
to be wanted,
to be happy with no hint of confusion

Like Alice, she wants to go home.