i can feel the passion slowly fading.
when faced with blank pages, i spew nothing
but empty words and meaningless sentences,
so superficial, overflowing with pretenses.

oh, how i miss the wide-eyed writer I used to be:
the type to pour his whole heart and soul into his stories.
now, i'm stuck chasing the words that were once mine,
stuck wondering if i'll ever get back my shine.