She painted her skin red, so did he.

Maybe that's what brought them together.

She knew his drug was writing.

He realized how someone can be addicted to more than one substance.

Soon enough they started writing on each other's skin with red of their lips and not their blades.

He wrote poems on her neck.

She wrote love songs on his lips.

Together they started being each others drugs.

Soon their skin turned from red to white.

Hearts from black to red.

I am not mad,

I am not mad,

I am not mad,

I am just a hatter.