by Hannah Siktberg
Loss.
Depression.
Sadness.
The fear of losing people close to her,
Those who haunt her sleep.
Everyday she wondered,
Are these people real?
Or fake?
Is this life a dream?
Am I Alice?
Did I fall down a hole
And end up in a world of nonsense?
Or have I jumped through a mirror,
To a place where everything is backwards and messed up?
She concluded,
No world is perfect.
No person is real.
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