Heart

Oz never did give nothin' to the Tin Man,
That he didn't, didn't already have.

And 'cause' never was reason for believin'
Or the Tropic of Sir Galahad.

America, "Tin Man"

— `phfina's thoughts:

Oz gave the Tin Man a heart, so that he could love.

Oz can't give me that. I don't have a heart. I don't have a soul. I don't have dreams, nor hope. I have nothing. I am nothing.

So, funny, we all think at times, that so much is written and sung about a pumping vessel, a valve, that it has so much meaning to so many, and all it does is sustain life, and, funny, again, that it actually defines, life, or, more accurately, when it stops, it defines Death.

I wish I even had Death, I don't have that. But it will have me. Very soon, today even. There will come a time when time is no more for me, and then what? Then the charade is over, the curtain falls, not to rise again, like everybody else will, on the Last Day. I'm not even Left Behind; I'm not even a Forgotten One, the old Elder God that nobody remembers the names to or even that they existed ... Melissa is my name, and nobody remembers her, the most powerful goddess of Crete, now gone, at least she had her time, and her prominence, ... I have neither. I am neither. I am neither this nor that, neither quid nor haec, neither noumenon nor phenomenon, just nothing, and not even that.

Oz never gave nothing to the Tin Man, that he didn't, he didn't already have.

Oz can't give me a heart, either, it's not that I don't have it. It's that there's no 'I' to give it to.