Are your pleading cries for help towards me?

Have I been blind to not see what you see?
My words possess no hate,
Only admiration for someone who shares the love of poetry

I wish to be the mad hatter,
Whom’s madness gives us chuckles.
To guide young Alice through her perilous troubles.

When I look at Alice,
I see no Malice.
But when she slays the Jabberwocky,
I will raise my tea filled Chalice.

Does young Alice wish to escape
The Wonderland she came to create?
Or rather Conquer
And turn it to a Sanctuary State?

I wish to explain to Alice
Why a raven is like a writing desk. 
A simple answer might be, “Poe wrote on Both.”

I hear the teardrops hit the floor
Like the sound of rain,
Against a window pane.

I lay in darkness as rhymes surf my mind,
Pondering on which to bind.
My lips remain sealed to all the secrets I’ve been told,
Even though my curiosity grows ever more bold.

As I hand Alice her tea,
I spot the Cheshire Cat up in a tree.
It’s smile unwavering,
Its gaze, to some, unnerving.

Alice and I cheer with a raised Chalice,
Wanting to throw the Cat some mice.
To feed its white grin,
Against its coat almost dark as Sin.

Vanishing in smoke,
Interesting thoughts it does provoke.
With its swaying tail,
Almost whispering a tale.