The Tin Man

I’ve been working on this shit since I woke up.
5:15 pm 
I think it was.
Still feeling corroded and rough,
like the tin man from The Wizard of Oz.

Did I try at all or not enough?
To sober up.
Less than 48 hours of sweating, 
or a drop of anything.
I thought, I could make it past.
One more night, 
without another glass.

Though I am as impulsive as they come. 
Because I love the most.
So deeply, I give away every piece of my soul.

That is why my aura has become 
so discoloured.
In search for my heart,
like the tin man.
Waiting for someone to help oil what is now rusted and a little dead.