miss lucy had some leeches
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In her world of sitting and staring (at things beyond her window, beyond her reach) words become torn and twisted and fistfuls of lies (just like her own sick little fantasy land scattered like ash on the inside of her head that they're trying to pull apart).
"Alice, I hate to think what goes on in that head of yours." ("There's no saving you, child.")
"Alice, would you mind telling me what happened that night?" ("Any final words?")
"Alice, it's time for your medication." ("Off with her head!")
And really they might as well take a hammer a nail and shove it through her head and let her bleed (the bad blood out) until she's crumpled up at odd angles on the floor (like her parents) and put her in a coffin (because that's the only way she's ever going to get out of the asylum).
But then she wonders (seven-year-old sat on floor taking tea for two) that when she's reduced to ashes (corpses laying about her blue ruffled skirts, they all fall down) would they want to burry her amongst normal people (read between the lines; not like her).
No; (broken) headstones in the graveyard (that her parents decompose under because she was too busy in her fantasy to notice their reality) are not such luxuries for girls like her.
Just leave her rotting in the dark.
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a/n: wh-00-t. alice angst. yeyness. tis based on the song 'miss lucy had some leeches' by the amazingly talented emilie autumn xP