Aug 24, 2017 · 1 min read
The Tin Man
Walking the yellow brick road of life
Sometimes with others, sometimes alone in strife
Standing in the woods, an axe in hand
Ready to be productive, but we just can't
Our joints locked with the rust of depression
Waiting for our Dorothy to relieve this tension
Independent because we won't admit
Tin won't be enough to get out of this pit
We stand here frozen
But at last we have been chosen
She approaches us as we boil
In our mental aberration, desperate for oil
She brings the can to me
I accept it reluctantly
"You must forgive the lack of trust,"
"For the last time I loved, it gave me my rust"
My body free, but without a heart
She gives me hers, and here we start
