Alice in Neverland

Hello, Mr. White Rabbit,
my name is Alice.
Follow, down a void of
swirling, whirling, twirling, curling
colours.
Maybe I'm real,
maybe my head made me up,
and I'm actually just a figment
of my own imagination.
My little guide races off,
and I stand,
alone in backwards land,
waiting for somebody to lend a hand?
A quirky hat, tipped on it's side,
the tea looks in danger of spilling,
the glasses are skewed.
He is crazier than he looks,
but then, so am I.
He calls himself a cock-eyed optimist.
I call him a scatterbrained madman, 
being, myself, a realist.
A real cock-eyed optimist exists,
a grin, floating from...
not ear-to-ear, 
ears are not noticeable behind the
beguiling smile.
And twins, gibber twins,
blibber at me, and I 
quizzically watch them.
A big-headed dictator--
or dictatoress?--
every land needs one, does it not?
She is red, the colour of
lust and blood.
She thinks it represents her
passion.
I think it represents her deisire to stamp and
kill
all who cross her,
being, myself, a realist.

But who are you?
I do not know you. 
How did you find your way into Neverland?
Unless my mind fabricated us both, 
and we are both of us figments of
my wild imagination.
In that case, let us be figments
together.
I call myself a realist.

I am Alice.
Welcome to Neverland.