She gazed across the baren lands,

a rusted key lay in her hands,

a salted tear slipped down her face,

she sat on the balcony, crumpling her lace.


Alone she sat hour after hour,

greif flooding her like a shower.

Why did she follow the lonely track?

Why did she think of coming back?


she'd hoped to find the windows bright,

with fun and laughter, warmth and light.

Her brothers and sisters all at play,

her mum in the kitchen singing away.


Instead she'd found as she opened the gate,

with horror that she was far too late.

Windows were smashed, the curtains tore,

A dolls head on the verandah floor.


she turned and fled, not looking back,

until she reached the lonely track.

They found her by the waters side,

nobody knows how Molly died.


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