We're All Mad Here

Feel myself fall into the void again tumbling down the hole.
I guess that's what I get for taking the first step,
I shouldn't have followed that rabbit, I know.

How to touch the ground again when it can no longer even be seen?
A memory from a reverie dreamed from a world of my own make believe.

Who's the real me anyway?  the lost girl? the narrator? the mad queen?
the one who talks to cats and flowers or the one who eats things that talk back to me?

I am soliloquy wandering the Tulgey Wood
wondering where I lost my interest in good advice.
Suddenly sorry I smoked the hookah pipe with that caterpillar,
the hatter and all those mice.

Maybe the life I left wasn't so boring but then again how would I ever know?
If I didn't get lost sometimes, smoke the pipe, or chance a tumble down a hole.

Curiosity is a key on a table in front of a locked room of mystery.
Where one hears spellbinding music and whispers of untold pleasure to be.

Groundless Alice accomplish these tasks, shrink your growing inquisitiveness.
The girls who get in trouble are the ones that ask, the ones who aren't
submissive to the obvious.

But those who never wonder I imagine to live a life never really lived at all...
never getting lost, never speaking to any caterpillars, and never daring a chance to fall.

He asked, "Who are you?"  Such a small inquiry to which I could devote
volumes of inadequate answer.
Asking me that question, before you will bother to know, before permitted advancement... 

how cunning...Who am I? I hardly know anymore....
I've changed so many times so I could fit through these doors.

Right now, I am a girl lost in a fairy tale penned from my very mind
but your guess, as to the fate of this protagonist, would be as good as mine.