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Another friend’s settee,

another temporary home,

I sat on the floor and cried for you;

poor little boomerang girl,

nothing you can do.

 

I’d shoot bullet holes,

into your black skies,

to let the starlight shine on you;

poor little boomerang girl,

how will you get through.

 

You silenced the music,

and forgot how to sing,

hung up your dancing shoes;

poor little boomerang girl,

your heart is so bruised.

 

You can’t recall how to dance,

and stopped having fun,

kept your chin up, and eyes to the floor;

poor little boomerang girl,

you can’t take anymore.

 

No food in the cupboard,

no pence in your purse,

your mother’s out dancing,

poor little boomerang girl,

your father’s romancing,

and your life just gets worse.

 

Another friend’s settee,

another temporary home,

I sat on the floor and cried for you;

poor little boomerang girl,

nothing you can do.

 

Boomerang Girl by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

2016

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