I initially wrote this poem to be read in the structure you see. However as I wrote it, I found that you could read it by starting at any of the breaks without the poem losing any of the intention I had for it. So you may wish to read this from the proposed first line to the last (as you see below) or feel free to choose your own starting point and read the poem around in a loop.
No bandage can hold this in place.
Like trying to glue back together an egg shell lying in tiny fragments on the floor.
A smashed mirror reflecting back a hundred versions of yourself, each more grotesque than the last. A cobweb of carnival freaks.
There is no escaping this web. It clings to every part of you. The only way out is to be torn. Ripping all rhyme, reason and rationality away from your sad body. Pushed blind in to a new world where none of your senses seem to be responding to anything around them. A foreign world you are unprepared for. A domain where you seem to float rather than walk. Locked in silence not speech. Invisible.
This is no wonderland Alice, but a wasteland.
So tie her up with the rest. With those that dance until they are greeted by death.
Their shrill song will last longer than their short lives did.
Their wounds cannot be helped by ointments, pills or words.
No bandage can hold in place that which they hold so heavily in their hearts.