I wrote a poem once and it didn’t rhyme

but instead kept time

like a rhythmic beat

and those who read it

and did not get it

moved along and needn’t try

to forget it

but those who stayed

and kept it close

opened a door

onto my most

hidden secrets

a wall of infamy

and of uncharted regrets

for those I kissed

with a mouth full of blood

 and those I impaled

 on their notions of love

 to those who broke down

 the broken bits of me

 and made dust from the diamonds

 that once had made me

 that proved to me

 for once

 and for all

 that the forgotten crawl

and the thoughtful weep

whilst the nihilist do goods

climb the steep knoll

of promises to fruit

and hold their chests

desperate for someone

to tell them the truth

as their hearts come undone.