Watching your soul hang on a clothes line
Drenched in an end
Lays there sloppy and soaked with tears
What once was strong, sags
Colorless fluids of life water the dirt below
Seeds into weeds
Sun brightens, evaporates the sorrow
But dries too much
Stiff, brittle, still hanging on a clothes line
Wait for a daring hand
When one shows, dried soul becomes straw
Grow arms, legs, a head
Always praying for farmer and his wife
Bring this monster in
“Gepetto? Blue Fairy? How long must I linger
These pins do crucify”
Yellow brick never led to anywhere real
Straw, the soul remains
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