"Oh me, oh my!" said the editor.
"Correcting this is quite the chore.

Is this the best that you can muster?
This story's totally lackluster.

The writing is so uninspired;
Just reading through it makes me tired.

It's my job to inform you that
Your characters are cardboard-flat.

Their dialogue is somewhat static,
Their interaction, problematic.

And can't you tell this phrase is wrong?
It's hackneyed as a country song.

The verbs you've used are lacking action;
Your adjectives are pure distraction.

Descriptions here are not poetic;
I'd say that they're downright pathetic.

Your plot line wanders round and round.
No resolution can be found.

Your thoughts are not original.
I see no spark of life at all.

I'm trying here to be polite,
But I insist that you rewrite.

In fact, I have a better plan:
Throw this away. Begin again."
. . . . .

For criticism that's dispersed,
My inner editor's the worst.