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The daughter, oh so beloved Pandora, sat at her first years desk. A baby of life, just grasping at knowledge, burdened with expectations.
This time, Pandora does not open the box. This time, Pandora is a little girl in downtown Manhattan Who peeks around corners and always gets into places she shouldn’t
Pandora's box contains one thing. It is the only thing I need. But I will need to set it free to give hope to my family.
Pandora Foolish girl You let your curiosity get the best of you And opened the box That forsaken box And now your brethren and children Will suffer A fate of sins and evil
It'll all change, written on a different page but there is no going back Love was the lack, my soul as dark as black, i lied i cheated ill do the opposite of my mistakes
(performed in front of my fraternity when we were celebrating Greek culture. there are many different versions of the Pandora myth so understandably some parts of my poem might not "fit" with one version of the myth)
I am convinced that Pandora knows me too well. As I browse the list of prospective genres, artists, and songs, my mind analyzes and reiterates the generic