Wicked Witch of the West
Her hair free, wild and dark, like the rain-filled clouds. Wide dark eyes and red-coated mouth. Her smile crooked, her laughter loud. She by no means is a lady. She can keep no man and bear no child. Her father's expectations far too high, She tries and tries, without uttering a cry Her hands - battered and calloused From climbing the ladder to reach the top. They laughed when she slipped, Her hand grasping the air, trying not to fall Alas, she fell. Their laughter taunting her. But she didn't die. She rose up all red, covered in her own blood. Smiled at their disgusted faces. She didn't care anymore for them, Only she mattered to her. Her feet were twisted backwards they said, As she walked a path different from them. No more ...