Tin man’s at it again
heart-hunting for one
soft, tender, a little too big
no matter if it’s scarred
it could be the vessel to harbor
the hollow echo of his being
I’ve heard horror stories
of his heart lynchings
I hide mine deep within
for fear he may spy
the swelling of my chest
or notice the look of
with-all-your-might
love on my face while
my heart, the prey
of his emptiness
lies in wait
to be ripped apart
Heartspell 