Mad
as a March Hare.
Do
you desire,
more
than your fair share
of
madness covered in curly hair?
Do
you believe,
in
all the confusion flowing,
or
do you want what is showing?
Can
you not,
decipher
the clues now revealing,
where
she is peeled, off the ceiling?
Can
you tell,
the
truth from the down right lying,
or
did you fold beneath her crying?
Is
your wanting,
hiding
from you a certain madness,
and
will you leave her before the sadness?
Is
your trouble,
the
inability to look and recognise,
what
becomes the madness when beauty dies?
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