Disclaimer: If we owned Harry Potter-well….honesty, we'd be swimming in our beautiful pool of wealth-instead we swim in a crappy pool of crappy water. Wouldn't mind if we owned Pepsi either. Oh well…
I was called: the twig teardrop
It sucks to be a stick
I am never appreciated, not one bit
That rhymes, doesn't it!?
Swirly stuff comes out of me, lots of green light
It makes me nauseous, don't you see
Killing people is quite a fright
Especially when you're being twirled around and spinning upside down
With all your bearer's might
I choose the wizard
He chooses me not
But for me, he gives no second thought
His oily, hormonal hand
Makes me want to leave his hand
We just rhymed hand with hand
We are the best rhymers in the land
I loved Ollivander
And he loved me
We would've lived so happily
Burn, Cho, Burn.
(Years after writing Burn, Cho, Burn, Emmy organized a ceremonial burning of the torn pages of Harry's and Cho's first kiss. Over 2 million flocked to the scene and gladly tore and threw their pages into the glorious fire. The smoke that emitted from the fire was dedicated to the wand for which this poem is dedicated. Wands were not harmed in the making of the fire.)
That's about it! Read and review! Write poems to demonstrate your burning hate for Cho! Verb! It's what you do! Stop reading this end note! Really, I mean it! Now! Never mind then, keep on reading-total waste of time! Your loss! (Doesn't everything sound better when it ends in an exclamation point!)!!!..........!!!!!