I submitted some poetry in a contest. In return i got love and a restraining order.

POISON, BLEEDING HEARTS IN MY BRAIN.
MY HEART ATTACK IS THE CLICHÉ’ OF A BROKEN HEART.
ERRECTIONS ARE MEANING FULLLESS OR ARE THEY?
I WOULD NOT HAVE AN ANSWER IN WHAT MY BRAIN CALLS A MIND IN MY HEAD.
WHAT TIME DOES THE HEART STOP ACHEING?
SOON I WOULD GUESS AND WOULD BE WRONG OR ARE I?
The stain in my mousse houses as I burn and yearn with fire and desire my opinions are like a bad rap with a bad wrap and my digression digresses in digress, I mean dig dress.
Where for art thou? Why should I care, cause I don’t, won’t and shoun’t (pronounced shoun’t)
If every pain in my body feels like hurting then when can the pain in my non body non hurt?
Yeah, you heard me, I said fuck you.