I’ve always hated it when authors seem to find joy
In killing my favorite characters.
With gleaming eyes they toy
With turmoil in every chapter.

Just when they’ve got you attached
To the character’s quirks and flaws
To their words and their demons
Just when you’ve fallen in love
With the character’s identity—
With a cruel turn of the lip
The author smirks and kills them off
And at our gasped pleas, merely scoffs.

But the author was God
And my favorite character was you
And I still can’t believe
You’re gone.

Justin Wetch