Non-rhyming verse

What is it about rhyme and rhythm which makes it stick in our minds so much more than poetry that doesn’t? Maybe the human mind is nothing if not a glorified pattern matching machine…

Here’s an as-yet-untitled poem from my archives, that doesn’t rhyme:

What is this thing in my mind
That permeates all my thoughts?

What is this thing in my heart
That makes it hurt when you’re not around?

What is this thing in my eye
That sparkles when I’m looking at you?

What is this thing in my soul
That rips open my emotions and betrays them to you?

What is this thing, and where did it come from?