Mad Hatter

Laughing souls arise at the eyes dying in disguise,
How her pain hides beneath her floor boards under a rainy stormy surprise,
Now her language of a stripped black mask beaten to the core with her face in tact,
Leaves her hearts stripped back like routes from a home of an explosion we passed,

All the while the innocence of our laughs shatter into screams for a reason we can’t unmask,
How a bruise shapes it shadow under the hope we’ll lose
But the names that grew” ha, mad hatter, what happening to you”

What a thousand grazes on the inside of our pages
And Ink splattered all over our windows of indecisive makings,
Could a mad hatter help if there was to find nothing but a simple way out?

Which pain slips into the shade of abyss and pure hate?
Which game clashes under the will they can no longer escape?
This could be the end of someone struggling for a day.
This could be bi polar,
or so they say.

Beth Harris