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White Room

I was in my white padded room
When a black cat walked by
I asked where he was going
Expecting a “meow” in reply

He said he was travelling
Asked if I would tag along
I said perhaps yes
It never felt so very wrong

We arrived pretty soon
And was eating many small delights
I knew what each one would bring
The labels were right
Time was passing
Perhaps seconds perhaps days
I was lost in my mind
It had become a hedge maze

the tea party was over
and In my state fell into some shards
of a broken teapot
and was taken by cards

but before I could bleed
I had already sweat a monsoon
Suddenly I was back, because I nearly forgot
About my white padded room

Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Editing stage: 


Was she mad, abused, delusional, you?

This is one of the poems that keeps me coming back here in my poetry-overloaded state.
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