There once was a girl
Who wore mismatching socks
And whose smile shone ever so brightly.
Each morning she'd curl
All her forest brown locks
Just to straighten them out again nightly.
She once overheard
The most heinous of lies
Being told to her dear friend the minstrel.
She did not speak a word,
Just averted her eyes,
But she wrote it all down with her pencil.
She scrawled it all out
To rid it from her mind,
But the lie still lay there on the paper,
And she knew even then,
As she left it behind,
It'd be back upon her mind later.