Tin Man,
longing for this prize,
this heart dreamt of
with which to love.
March the road
of yellow brick,
to trails end,
and quest realized.
So now you feel
the love,
the pain,
the innermost
of rain.
Drips,
drops,
come tumbling down.
Take axe in hand,
and chop away,
and lose the love
you lost today.
In hand, take can,
and oil to ease,
broken heart,
that brought to knees.
