What will it be, Alice?

I like to do five minute poetry, where I pour out everything is a steady flow of consciousness. Its a poetic snapshot of however I feel. So of course, not my best work. But I write for me.

Yerning, desire,

whatever you call it.

It rips out of my chest,

reaching outward,

to what?

I don't know.

Frustrated, confused,

I do not know what I yern for.

Only that it calls to me,

tempting me to chase it.

Should I go?

Will I be the archetype?

The lost young girl,

searching for herself.

Searching,

but is it for myself?

Or something else?

The million dollar question,

to which the answer is long lost.

All my life,

I've taken the leaps.

But will I leap?

What if this is the one,

the one to end me.

Into the rabbit hole, Alice.

Down you go,

into insanity.

Mad, mad,

staying leads to madness.

Not knowing, feeling.

Enough to drive anyone mad.

Going leads to madness,

lost off on an uncharted route.

So what is it Alice?

Drink Me, 

says desire.

Eat me,

says security.

A little to big,

or a bit to little.

Never the right size.

Never the right situation.

Always chasing rabbits. 

Just a sip, Alice.

Down the rabbit hole again.

Author's Note

Just thought I'd put something out there, so again, not my best work. Just expression, so please if you must be critical, be constructive.
Thanks,
Victoria

Reviews

[A. Amos]

Very interesting my friend and enjoyable read...