Disclaimer: I do not own Alice or the cheshire cat.
This poem is in Alice's P.O.V.
She talks about being called mad, being mad, having her sanity "shattered."
Sorry it doesn't quite rhyme but I hope you like it.

---

Mad. Mad? Mad.
Mad this, mad that.
I'm beginning to forget the actual meaning
of the
w o r d.
I only grasp the fact that this is what
I
am.
I
N
S
A
N
E
I suppose I am. Am I? Suppose I.
A
L
O
N
E
Alone? Alone alone alone alone alone alone alone. Mother and father. They left me. They left me. Left me...
... But I am not alone. Oh no.
The smirking cat is one of the inhabitants inside my head. One. Not only.
Everyone is... m.. manic. Everyone. Not just.. me.
T h e C h e s h i r e
He was such a queer little kitty. Was. Not is.
But things have changed. Modified. For the better? Worse?
Queer has changed to demented. Deranged. Psychotic. Disturbed.
... M a d...
My beautiful looking glass has broken. Shattered. It has fallen and I cannot repair it now.
The shards of glass.. the shards. They hurt me.
Some shards.
C u t d e e p e r
than others.
Never to be the same again. Same again. Sane again.
Cannot repair cannot repair.
Damaged.
Forever.
Sanity.
G o n e