This is a poem

My first, actually.
Well, not the first one EVER;
But my first that you've seen.

I /would/promise, that for you; I'll make it a great one

But that would be lying.

The words are running out of my body like a nose bleed,
And my fingers are ready to write;

But I'm still finishing the introduction, so
It feels a lot more like
A
Nosebleed
That came
At a
Sleep
Over;

Awkward,
And unexpected.

         j