The characters are overdeveloped, ev’ry detail explained
The setting and scenery are irrelevant, they always change
And the main character seems to be me, though no one knows quite why
Why doesn’t the overrated author end it, and let me die?
The writer’s skill at keeping your attention just cannot be beat
By his slick romantic twists, he keeps you on the edge of your seat
But his devilish cruelty is unbending
He keeps avoiding the happy ending
The characters thought to be in for love are not
They’re continuously written out of the plot
The tale drags on, suspiciously full of troubles, problems and strife
But I keep reading this bastard’s book, since it’s the story of my life
His devilish cruelty is still unbending
He still avoids that safe, happy ending
I keep waiting for love, but it is not to be
The one he needs to write out of the plot is me