Third

Pretty, pretty Alice.

Why so glum?

I hate to see my lovely Alice broken on the pavement.

But I had to, darling, don't you see?

You're not so pretty now, and not half so defiant.

You're still a strange kind of beautiful, though.

Your porcelain skin marred,

Your corn silk hair turned black and dripping scarlet.

I'll miss your gravelly sweet voice,

But not the horrible things you screamed at me.

I'll miss the way your cheeks flush the color of strawberries,

But not the way your dark blue eyes turned cold.

You were special, different from the others,

But you would not join the dance.

I remember the first Alice, the very first.

Her final, writhing movements beneath the dark water were beautiful.

The second was a wicked thing; I still have the scars.

The force of three, exquisite bullets knocked her backwards like a rag doll.

You were my third Alice.

I first saw you dancing on the asphalt, during a street festival, on the corner of Second and Jefferson.

It was your eyes that caught my attention, really.

You danced along the edge of madness,

But you wouldn't dance with me…

They're taking me away now.

The tight embrace of the strait jacket is comforting.

My poor, poor Alice!

Now you can never join the dance.

A/N Sorry for the major creepiness, but if you liked it: Please review!