The girl had seen too much.
She had traveled to Iceland
Berlin
Amsterdam
France.
At the mere age of four.
She had visited China
Russia
Australia
Belgium
At the mere age of eight.

And at the mere age of thirteen,
she met Pandora.
They became fast friends.
Pandora opened the box.
They became fast enemies.
There were no "blue pills" in Pandora's box.

And so the girl went on.
She had seen too much.
Knew too much.
It didn't even matter.

She went on and composed poems
metaphorical pieces of ****,
that meant nothing
yet everything
to some misguided soul.

It bored and amused her.
Still didn't even matter.