Alone she soars high above, watching in contempt the people who deny her acceptance. Alone she concocts means for their demise. In this realm she is alone and shall always be alone for she is a witch of the most prestigious background.
Down below a man looks to the sky and calls ‘Can you spare me a penny, lady?’
Others crowd; flies to fetid, rotting meat.
Alone she takes a laugh at their expense and departs, exposing jewels and gold hidden beneath her velvet cape.
‘Common folk’ she mutters to herself; thanking heavens she is not one of them.
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