Fuel for the Hearth

His heart was replaced with a lump of coal
Yet still it beats
Blackened soot mixed with ocher blood
Operates his mechanisms
Yet his eyes are clear
Though the off-coloured veins are a little unsettling.
With no thought to efficiency
He doubles and redoubles his efforts
To pursue the art
Of diminishing returns
Until nothing is done at all.
He stands still in a corner
His blood dried to a viscous paste
His heart stone still
Less the man for ignoring his humanity
In acts of self inflicted inhumanity
As all those who aspire to be tin soldiers fall
The mind a trap to exploit the weakness of the flesh
The ego a trap to ensnare the mind
All unfortunately housed in the same box together
Bid farewell to the Man of Coal
He and his tin soldier ambitions are but ash.