Married To the Tin Man
Rust ate away the Tin Man's heart,
but I never stopped loving.
After abandoning me, who wouldn't
need a wizard's magic to restore
some semblance of feeling?
Loving me was like loving a tin can:
I always had something to offer.
Loving him was no more than loving tin foil:
he crumpled from every wifely demand.
After passion had worn out his iron cock,
he marched into the woods -- as he fled,
my desperate words flung from a resolute mouth
bounced harmlessly off an impenetrable backside.
I cried, threw things, carried on for days,
but nothing flipped the switch in his mind.
[The robot was intent on leaving me.]
So alone as I was, I did not regret my actions:
I sold that bastard's heart to a junkyard.
This poem appears online at Words are a Need.
http://wordsareaneed.blogspot.com/2014/07/married-to-tin-man.html
|