Alice is off her head
again –
she should never have drunk
that tiny drink, or eaten
that little cake, so small,
and so innocuous – and now
her face is bigger than her head
and her feet are a million miles away –
but even though the room is
kaleidoscoping round her
and the walls are tumbling
upwards
and she can only swim
in her own tears
she thinks she can find
her own reflection
and emerge through that.
Sarah writes poems 
she should have been a politician…
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