I am a boomerang.
             You throw me out into a blur,
             of unanswered questions that reoccur.
             No matter though, I turn around,
             and come back to that unsteady ground.
I am the song you sang.
             The one that got stuck in your head,
             that you hummed softly as you went to bed.
             From time to time though, forgot it,
             the words would gradually lose their pitch.
I am that scarf you hang
             The one so easily covered,
             that suspended there amongst the others.
             They cater to your separate needs,
             since weather changes so drastically
             from summer to winter or in-between.


I’m now an overhang
             I see above everything,
             and the waste of time it all did bring.
             The cloud that loomed over my mind, (is gone)
             can’t bring you back around this time.


I’ll no longer be the blood on your fangs,
I’ll no longer be your boomerang.