by WitChi Woman
A slice of organic humble pie drenched in fruity, artificial flavoring.
Do not be enticed by the gift points, contests, and games to dip into the “harmless fun” of brain-teasing appetizers. This site lays out an immoral mental smorgasbord of decadent truffles disguised as crisp crudités.
I started out nibbling on other's creations, and soon I was biting into reviews. I honestly didn't see the harm in choking off a hungry child's innocent request with: “Your thesis would be better supported if you gave specific examples of how ice cream is good for you.”
It didn't take long before I was stewing in my own poetry. I savored the idea that I could quit whenever I wanted…until the day I found myself washing the same dish, mulling the ancient question of whether shadows jump, dance, or flicker.
Today, I tasted my first public review...and... now I realize I've been reduced to a junkie, craving her next trip to the literary buffet. My last memory is of dancing into the kitchen, relishing the thought of a vegan meal. An hour later, my husband found me; immersed in the pots and pans, slurping greasy strings of ham from my fingertips—marinating in a mesmerizing melange of metaphor and meter.
May my unsavory confession serve as a recipe of warning.
SAVE YOURSELF. Do not sample even one tempting morsel, lest you be swallowed in the Hades of cerebral gluttony that is Writing.com.