When I was tweleve, I wrote my first poem ever in life, and it was very very good. So, taking the suggestion of a teacher, I sent it into the "International Library of Poetry", the same fuckers running poetry.com
Well a couple weeks went buy, and I forgot about it.. and then one day I get a letter in the mail saying that I was a semi-finalist and blah blah blah, only 64 other people, blah blah blah, send 65.99 now and recieve.. blah blah blah..
I went apeshit. I spent a week, preening myself over a poem and being a semi-finalist. My parents didn't really have a clue if these guys were serious or not, but they were thinking it was a scam, but didn't want to tell me they thought that. Anyway.
I sent in the things they wanted me to send in, and I spent that summer pretending to be a poet. Welp, September rolled around and they told me that I was going to be published, and that I was possibly going to win like a thousand dollars or something, and maybe a scholarship.. *if* I sent them more money and my first born child (ok, maybe I'm exagerating)
I was young, I begged until Dad sent in 69.99, and then I tried talking them into spending the gross amount of money these people wanted so that I could sit at a table and eat cheap food.
Well, I did end up published, I do have the book, I think I'm on page 114. I was so fucking happy. So, I sent in three more poems, so that they could choose my best, and also so I'd have greater chances of winning, blah blah blah. Hey, I was young..
So it's now January, like a week after my sister's birthday and Dad comes in carrying a stack of mail and a box. I squeal happily cause I know what's in the box. Well, then he hands me three letters from the goose stepping nazi cunt bastards at the International Library of poetry.
Three letters, exactly the same, word for word. The only thing different was the titles of the poems.
Hey, I was young.
Anyway, I had a feeling something fishy is going on, so I send in a poem full of nothing but commas and other fun things.. a month goes by and I get a letter word for word the same as the others I had gotten, and guess what, I was one of 65 semifinalists, agian. Gee.. I wonder..
To make a long story short, I went on a rampage, burnt every poem and short story I had pretended I was good at writing, and vowed never to send away poems that were my heart and soul away to anyone ever agian, and that to publish my work would be the death of me, blah blah blah. I become a Goth, I just didn't know that my bitching and whinning and self-loathing was Goth. I also didn't stop scowling until I was 15 and a half.

The Moral of the Story:

They're lying to you!! Those goose-stepping nazi cunt bastards from Heck!! They're LYING!!

or:

I was a Dumbass at tweleve, and your Momma dresses you funny.