It's Strange you see.
What will be will be, and mirrors play tricks with smoke.
How one may fall,
down a wishing well,
When in reality it's a hole.
The hole in which, the rabbit cries, and pleads to overcome,
This place that we call Wonderland,
With tweedle-dee and tweedle dumb.
It's dark, I think- but might be right-
if scoped under a setting-
in which light comes forth, and the Queen of Hearts,
finds love, but that is doubtful.
It's sort of like an alternate,
Universe - or something of the sort.
A Land that is so undeniably real-
but separated from this world.
A taste of The Lion The Witch and the Wardrobe
A snow blanket covers the ground-
and fairy-tale creatures are maimed
for the fame of holding a crown.
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