Each night I lay alone in bed
weaving my anamneses’ thread
that stretches ‘cross this life I’ve led
and now lays coiled inside my head
through these deep thoughts I often tread
a labyrinth where wisdom’s bled
and visions have the weight of lead
painted by my heart’s viscous red
I eat passion’s ambrosial bread
as though the world outside were dead
this is the solitude I’ve wed

I wrote this poem without following any specifically named style, entertaining myself to a single rhyme throughout with octosyllabic lines. If this style has a name, I don’t know what it is~

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1YsC32xLnkY