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The cold, lifeless floor feels strangely familiar.
My feet, then legs succumb to the cold.
So this is what it’s like to be lonely and old.
To travel by nothing then my own despair.
To have it mean nothing; disappear into thin air.
To hold myself, forced to say “There, there.”
What laughter, such distaste!
To have this whole life blowup in my face.
To feel as though nothing more than simply a waste.
Silly little Alice, such wasn’t the case.
Don’t wish to be among mad people?
You fail to see, none are as mad as you and me.