Monsters.

Running, running, running,

That's what the mind does when I do nothing.

Running, Running, Running,

Exhaustion filters through your bones although you're not moving.

Multiple men, with hounds and guns, 

Chasing me endlessly, until I see the rising sun.

The land seems infinite, and irritatingly mad,

Reminding me of the world I still painfully had. 

But with each achievement, I fall through everything, 

The reality of objects meaning absolutely nothing.

But I jerk forward and feel my face moisten with tears,

As my mind shouts lovingly with horribly loud cheers,

My touch becomes real and so does my breath,

Confirming I hadn't fallen to sudden death,

Yet here I am time and time again,

Living in this 'so-called' Wonderland,

With the monsters in the tree's, 

Bitter-fully staring at me,

'Don't worry Princess, there's no reason to be sad,

Because here in our Wonderland, 

Were all incredibly mad.'