A husk of my former self

I look back at the works I made

Alas, if only the gift had stayed

But I feel my talent fade, away

I try to remember the days

I felt emotion and passion

About the slightest topics to hassle

Now, thinking feels a hassle instead

I feel I'm losing myself, I dread

And I can't express my mind, I tried

I remember the last time I cried

Now I feel numb and dead, 

like the chick in the egg that was fried

Nothing to do but keep going on

I don't know where but I'm slowing down

Perhaps my poetry days are over, I'm going down.