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Boomerang Memories

You ever look up in a wood?
Hide from the sun when you should?
And run while you could
With the rattling wind that runs in the wood?
 
That wind steals your tears and the sound of your cry,
Cry for those you call parents who waved you good-bye,
Cry for the tedium of teachers who told you to try,
Cry in the midst of a boy who led you a lie
 
Who blew you a bruise for a kiss,
Who told you it was just hit and miss,
Who somehow was a part of all this,
This life, this sky, this, this, this.
 
What an empty word for something so frail,
When life’s moments tick by on the back of a snail,
And though we bend our knees, all hail, all hail,
In a life so large, what can we do but fail?
 
You ever look up at the baby-blue sky
And think about living up there, so high?
Away from the pollute and the muck,
Away from the blow, crack and suck,
Away from those who take chance at your luck,
Look down from the clouds, and play a game of I-Spy.
 
My ghost girl wanders in dead grey lands,
Ties a scarf round a tree to check where she stands,
A flash of smile, a grope for my hands,
My ghost girl wanders on different sands.
 
You ever look around, alone where you stood,
With memories pumping right into your blood?
Where the gap of a world stands between could and should,
All distant echoes in a lonely wood.

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