He settled down at his desk, poised to write
It had been decided: he would end the novel tonight
The fictional characters had become very close to his heart
In particular, the wily author, who played the main part
The personality had been modeled on himself - that he could not deny
Perhaps a bit too much; it was truly a pity he would have to die
But it was a murder mystery after all, meant to shock and thrill
And creating unexpected twists, he thought, was his most prized skill
So he set about killing the novel's protagonist; a shot to the chest did it
The murderer's identity remained shrouded in mist, as he cleverly hid it
With that, the novel was done, without further thought
Surely a bestseller, he mused. It would earn him a lot
Suddenly, the sound of a shot echoed through the room
The author immediately sensed his impending doom
He glanced down in horror and saw the blood stain
Even before he began to clutch his chest in pain
The true meaning of what happened hit him as he fell to the floor
This was one twist he had never bargained for
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