The Tin Can Man

The tin can man,
The boy with the copper chest,
His heart was a soup can,
His ribs were a rusty mess,
A brain full of dials and cogs,
Emotions run from dull to nil,
Craving for the sweetest oil,
Slurping, careful not to spill,

The tin can man,
The boy with the halogen eyes,
A soul made from cold pressed steel,
Full of wires,bound with cable ties,
Dark and dust filled, something missing,
Generic cries of beeps and hissing,

The tin can man,
The boy with sparks for hair,
His eyes now shattered,
Body laid open,veins pulled and scattered,
His soup can kicked in, dented, tattered,
Like he never mattered
Poked and pillaged, robbed of pressed steel,
A junk yard robbers finest meal,