Analysis of The Game Is Not Played Out

I play the game called poetry,
It means so very much to me
And does some magic to my mind,
Exposing thoughts once left behind.

I feel the meter in my heart
In patterns of poetic art
Where rhyming thoughts electrify
My soul in words I can't deny.

I'm slowly doing better in
The game I wish would never end.
As poetry inside me grows,
The game plays on as I compose.