A/N: A poem from Kate Barlow's viewpoint. I adore the character, and according to Louis Sacchar, she turned out completely different to what he imagined her to be and she became one of his favourite characters from his own books. I don't own her and the plot, sadly.
I've tormented men, laughed at their fears.
Whispered in their terrified ears.
They know I'm coming, but they can't stop it
They just can't tell when I'm going to hit.
Everyone knows my name – known it for years.
Men shake, women tremble; oh, the poor dears.
This is the price they pay, but it's not enough.
They chose to play the game this way; well, I play it rough.
It could have turned out different, they could have let me be.
Could have let us be together, happy and carefree.
But they wouldn't, couldn't; just had to see him dead.
They didn't know when he died Kissin' Kate would rear her head.
Many men I've robbed, more I've left to die.
Horrified, transfixed women, silently mouthing why.
Red blood draining into brown earth, the stain nice and clear.
Tell me, if we happened again, when he died would you cheer?
They may regret it now, but it's all too late.
Regrets won't bring him back; she's here to stay, is Kate.
Now I roam the desert, my name known through the West.
And they flee through the night, not pausing for a rest.
Each of them so petrified, each of them so shocked.
Shaking, waiting for the sound that says the pistol's cocked.
Watching, wide eyed, as I toss their jewels in the air.
Not knowing, when lips graze their cheek, if a kiss'll be left there.
For years, I've watched them reach the Gates.
I should feel remorse – all I find is hate.
I feel no shame, no guilt at all.
When I die I'll dance in the Devil's hall.
Times, though, I imagine: what if he'd lived?
I'd not be Kissin' Kate; oh, what if?
My life, my arms, my heart's empty,
Oh Sam, Sam, come back to me.
No, there's no point dreaming. Therein lies madness.
He's dead. All that's left for me is carrying out my curse.
They will never forget us – I'll never let them forget.
I'll see them die with blood and tears. They've not paid enough yet.
Let them get better horses. Let them run the risk.
They may run and hide. I'll still brand them with a kiss.