I thought I was good,
But now I must cry,
Here in the dark vaults
of Creepypasta Wik-i.
My writer loved me,
nurtured me,
and more,
but I guess I'm just destined
for the cutting room floor.
Some day they'll learn
to accept my writer's beauty,
otherwise their hearts
shall be o'ercame with blind malignancy.
Oh please say it!
You'll cry everytime
Or you'll become the victim
of a chain letter crime.