She used to let her golden hair fly free,
For she was too poor to own a hair tie.
Her eyes were dull like an ugly birds nest,
Though never a place where nature would be,
And her quick sharp glances gave fear to me.
Spawn of the devil or witch of the west;
without a doubt she was the scariest.
I kept a far distance for my safety.
Her noisy trudge was the least bit graceful,
And you wonder why no one looked her way?
It was fear of death to look in her eyes.
She was evil among the nice people
of hell, But yet she wears a smile today
And somehow she is no longer despised.
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