Young Lily was a lazy lass
With mousy hair and squinting eyes,
But she did not deserve what came to pass
Which left her badly traumatised.

Our Lily used to write a lot
(Alas she writes no more)
For to record her deepest thoughts
Was the pursuit she did adore.

She wrote in rhyme well structured verse,
(She wrote in prose as well!)
She did not deign to strain her purse
In clubs or pubs-she thought them hell!

Thus one day she did discover,
While wandering the net,
A site designed for the fiction lover,
And so her grizzly fate was set.

How then is named this siren site?
What URL is this?
What cruel society might
Entice the young ones then dismiss-

Dismiss them to an unjust fate!
(They leave as hollow shells,
Who came with hope and happy gait!)
What is this site so dark and fell?

Its name my friends is Fiction Press,
(The wise will tremble here.
For they are in a deadly mess
Who even chance its name to hear!)

Young Lily had no kindly friend
To warn her of this flaw,
To teach her fast her ways to mend
And now she feels the lack full sore!

She wrote and published every day,
(And reviewed I dare say)
Yet none to her would bend their way
For but one review she would pray.

She sat all day she sat all night
Before the glowing screen.
Awaiting some kindly insight,
Some critique never before seen.

She watched her inbox three whole years
Until she went quite mad.
She blinked away the lonely tears,
But worse is still to come-so sad!

For tears and stillness had combined
Her bones and joints to rust!
She to the scrapheap was consigned
Her hopes and dreams had turned to dust.

Beware beware of Fiction Press!
Its flashing eyes its floating hair
(Wrong poem I'll confess!)
Yet if you in its web will dare-

To chance your brain, your sanity.
Do something truly new:
Let it be harsh, short or witty,
But please kind sir, read and review!