Wonderland

I love children books, movies. My favourite movies are all animated. It's no surprise that my first poem ever was inspired by an old children's book.

I am falling down the hole
deep deep down
pass by the rabbit and the mouse
after the teapot, between the hats.
The clocks are ticking.
I don't drink, I don't eat but I grow, go back small.
The door remains locked.
Am I Alice? Maybe I am the hatter.
The clock is ticking
and the wonders still I look for.
The cards are shown, the ace is waiting,
the crown of the hearts is giving threats.
I am running, running through the forest
my tea is getting cold.
I am little, little but with a loud voice.
And now from high above I am looking at them
but does anybody hear my screams.
The door is locked and the clock is ticking.
One question is hovering around my mind
why is the raven like a writing desk.
I was more. Much more.
I've lost my muchness.
I know that I am but they are saying the opposite.
Confused, lost, a stranger
I feel in this wonderland.
Am I dreaming or it is my insanity calling
the clocks are ticking, the door- gone.
He, drinking his tea, smiled and asked me

fedora, bowler or boina.