tin man

marching around town

like you're king of the world

arrogant

to say the least

your silver used to sparkle

glisten in the sun's glory

as a child in the open grassy meadows

but it has since grown dim and dulla

clouded by judgement

muddied with poor choices

you were once a carefree child

young tin man

passing out smiles and hope

to passersby

but you sold your soul

and lost your heart

a long time ago

the oil can has run dry

all you can do is snap and hiss

squeaking and screeching

with every movement

old rusted metal

scraping painfully against itself

screaming for some relief

that horrible sound

echoes in the hollow cavity of your chest

and begets an even more horrible wrench in the gut

lost: the heart of a tin man

it found: please return to the one rooted under the oak tree

his eyes are bleak and torso empty

repair him before it's too late

and his skeleton turns to dust