No it isn't. Here's an amateur poem that I made up on the spot:
Delicately.
Recite words that I've written on this ancient paper.
Is it too much to ask that you be true?
Absolute zero.
The temperature of fidelity,
when all that I would want would become you.
I sic a smile on you from the formula I've taken.
I'm indisposed, but I'm also in contempt.
I lie as I lie myself upon this rusty sheet.
Is there another that would have your time well spent?
For all the questions that I ask, one answer can't be found.
Because I lead you on it won't make sense-
until you've been there for yourself:
until you've lived this life.
A mile in my shoes won't help you repent.
Tell me, are you ready to be obsolete?
Answer, are you prepared to shed your skin?
The only thing
that I want to know is
are you sure of
what
you
are?