A Tinman's Tears

No judgment. There is only solace here...

She paints so many pictures with her mind,
And uses 'we' whenever she speaks,
There is nothing that can be done.

It takes a monster
To fight these monsters...
Doesn't it?

Maternal etchings into the shell of your womb,
As cold hands reach out for more,
Only to brush against ice crystals,
Dancing across your vision...

It's like a sickly sweet kind of sadness;
When I look at you,
I do so with sacred awakened sight,
And see only midnight.

I do not trust people...
Simple because they are people.

Feeling the frown cross my lips...
As I slowly sink into the abyss,
Feeling the demons clawing down my door,
And all I can do... is weep.

Beyond the great mountainous divide,
You will find something extraordinary;
A room full of butterflies,
Where no civilization exists.

And all we can see are the stars,
Lining the night sky with dreary dull light,
In the haze, I can still see you...

And now, all I see...
Are the ghosts of all the things,
Which you might have become.