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Distortion
Alice
Made a grave mistake,
Wonderland
Was not a very accurate interpretation,
The Looking Glass
Is curiouser than we can imagine.
Distortion
Is the Universe’s check mate,
Space and time are the board,
Our eyes are the pawns.
Distortion
Is the barrier between light and truth,
Projects our ideas over our reflections,
Only to bounce back with a twisted image.
Distortion
Comes in all shapes and sizes
To make us each the center of our Universe.
Distortion
Is marketable.
Alice
Was a girl of twelve,
Wonderland
Was a fantasy world of childish nonsense,
And bended society’s logic and reason,
The Looking Glass
Was a portal,
The White Rabbit,
Into the world of contorted likeness.
Alice
Had no chance.
Wonderland
Was no true escape from reality.
The Looking Glass
Refused to show her true reflection back.
Distortion
Had off with her head.
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So it's one-thirty in the morning. All I have for a poem is the title. My tired brain, plagued with thoughts of scheduling for classes for junior year, drowned out any sense of creativity I had left. I wondered when I would start to have hallucinations, having been awake since six a.m. I imagined myself as the White Rabbit with a giant, digital pocketwatch racing to finish her work. And boom, I had a poem.