Tin Man

Is it love or is it hate?
Though there is no foundation from which they create.
You are a mannequin; you have a spine and a voice.
Yet no brain; no feeling or choice.

You are the ocean;
Swelling continuously, without mercy or emotion.
I am the girl in red, standing at your mouth in cold.
And you swell continuously and swallow me whole.

I turn my face to the west;
You are the counterfeit sun, and he is the best.
Drowning in you, I spiral to your bed.
The sun watches on and hangs his golden head.

You know I’m right;
Yet my smugness brings your anger, and your anger brings our plight.
I am Cinderella, you are Romeo; we are dead.
And this furious passion is just in our heads.

I am a flame;
And although you deny it, we are just not the same.
You are a toy, going through the human motions
But you are a puppet, and you remain broken.

You are made of wood;
And being partnered with fire is just no good.
I watch your nose grow longer; I listen to you lie.
As my annoyance and your ardour come together and multiply.

We are hollow;
Wrong, vain, argumentative and failing; we are shallow.
Fire and wood cannot live together; we must finish what should not start.
Oh my foolish Tin Man, where is your heart?