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-
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.