This is where my poems and fiction can be found, when I bother to upload it here. Not much now.

  I don't care if you're beautiful,

I don't care for your talents,

I don't care about your eye color, Nor dress nor skin nor hair,

I don't care if you 'love' him,

All I care is

How much you've made my head ache,

How much trouble you've caused,

All the canon ruptures,

Geographical distortions: Far changed to near: One week is barely a tenth of the way from Rivendell to Isenguard,

People shouldn't physically contradict themselves,

You shouldn't be here.

So wait for us, we come, we come, to the squeal of our alarm,

Not near to being smitten with you,

We take away your hope, prose, and tears,

Until all you have left is fear,

Come little Mary-Sue, and dance Death with me.

[Blayze: If anyone can tell me how to put in umlauts, I'd be most thankful.]

We are the PPC,

The protectors of the plot,

Back off, little fanwriter,

Your Sue is left to rot,

We are the PPC,

Canon is our middle name,

Mess with canon, and happy to say, we kill you, Sue.

Mary-Sue, Marty-Sam,

You don't exist,

Or, at least,

After I shoot you, you won't

I am the wolf that howls in the night,

I am the lion that roars in spite,

I am the hawk that flies above,

I am the cold that bites,

I am the heat that blisters and burns,

I am the thorns which torture you,

I am the PPC.

  To me, to me, writers of canon,

Today we slay the sue,

Breaking her evil spell, that which hangs over you.

All characters forgotten, those too strong to bend:

Bear your swords, bows, axes:

Those who understand our plight,

Weilders of rings, Maia, Masters of strongest will,

Help me kill the sue:

Vanquish the OC.

Bleeprin, Bleach mixed with Asprin,

The substances divine,

Erases painful memories,

Pure bliss, sublime,

One small problem:

Bleeprin + Alcohol = BOOM!