Oh nothing

Does everything have to be a poem?
Does my writing extend any further than this?
I need to explore my oneness and figure out if freestyling is the way to go.
I let it all pour out from me. Each word not carefully chosen. I lay my hand on the page and grasp at the corner to mark something I might have meaning to.
This is neither a story but a rambling of my mind and heart. My soul allowing me to expel these grimey thoughts and I will obey with love.
I could tell a story and it would be crude and straight to the point. I'm not one for the descriptive I really don't think. 
My story would be romantic fantasy and so it should be. Escape to a world where men are righteous, glorious and you are the most important person in the world.
My characters would be average and have very little depth. They would probably most likely bore you to death.
I would be too lazy to collate historical accuracies and have a lack lustre background to my story. I would only tell you what I want to be true and I can tell you now in fewest words that I want love to conquer all and live happily ever after in blissful surroundings.
I'm sure you understand to construct such a tale I'd be clutching at whispers and flowering the veil. The little I do know I'll tell you now. Life is a struggle and love comes fleeting through for a while. A blinkered moment goes by in a flash and what's left is a broken spirit expecting the rest.