This poem is a reflection on emotional numbness and the quiet decay that comes with pretending everything is fine.
The Tin Man becomes a metaphor for a person pieced together, holding themselves up with cold metal and empty gestures. Behind the silence and the stillness, there’s a history of abandonment, broken games, and burned bridges.
Like whisky over ice, feelings melt slowly but never truly flow. This is the journey of someone who walks without sound, who lives without beating, and who replaces their heart with air just to keep moving.
Bolts and metal
Fixed together like skin
No noises in my walking
Rusty emotions
Died in silence yesterday
I was broken
I was left behind
In disbelief I lied
Only dried eyes
No pain in game
The path in adventure
One bitten hand
Broken games
Incendiary ice blocks
That swim in my glass
Like a whisky on the rocks
The Tin-Man
No heartbeats has
When he comes
No matter if he is fine
Under the metal frame
Lacks the happy days
All what it was
Implanted air
Instead of a heart of flesh
le fin.
