Greatest Fear

I have a confession to make. I don't know the first thing about poetry. I don't know about the rules The rhymes The euphony That add to its glory, Its beauty. I don't understand each category That determines where each Beautiful body of voice belongs, Bracketing each expression of speech Into a home. I wonder where this one fits in. Will it be accepted by its kin? Or a distant echo Of what could have been But never came to pass? No imprint, no trace, To leave behind And make an impression On the minds of mankind. My soul's strongest hope And its closet fear - To never be heard Nor remembered For what it holds dear.