a foreigner, travelling here

from a kansas ...

only this world is not technicolor, but black and white

in which i mean, only grey

the witch, supposedly dead

a far worse one lurks in you

the world, the witch

she encompasses you, her world

the good witch, you wait for

but the world of grey is with you

and in some cases, never left

ive become your grey

in your world now, void of color,

of strength, or any sort of sanity

individuals mindless, thoughtless-

capable of thought?

"theres no place like home"...

without missing anything-

everything missing

and without missing a beat

except maybe not

maybe it can come back

maybe the power's been in you the whole time

only if i'd told you, youdve never believed me.

and so you could go home

if you believed, if you tried

and ive clicked my heels three times, ruby red

but some have not, will not, can not

their shoes are broken

feet tired from long and beaten weary paths

and world and witch so grey the yellow brick road could not be seen.

their minds are always gone-

always have been-

and oz remains.