I've been sitting on this one for a while hope you like it :)

I shot the author but I didn’t kill the reader

Author I despise you
With your god-like creativity.
Your ink-blood pumping life
Creating almost people
Who engage and befriend me.
Then with a flick of your ballpoint
Slashing them down,
Slicing them open to show the evil inside.
Revealing aspects I want concealed.
You don’t write masks,
But bring evil and indecency to the surface.
You murder mercilessly,
And drive imaginary walls between lovers.
You only create heartache,
Dancing with reality,
Why do you write a mirror of the world?
How I long for fairy tales
With ardent lovers in the night
No spectres of rape and adultery.
Oh, author how you pain me,
Seduce me with your open pages,
Only to dash my hopes with grim enjoyment,
When will your pen run out of ink?

ANNA