Fading of a talent

These things used to come naturally then I ran out of the stuff used to make them.
Like everything the rationality of creating them dissipates.
I will soon become the sequel, always not as good as the first.
Now I have to spoon through the new to find something worth your eyes.
I have become all good things, taken, twisted, used till there use is all gone. No one ever defies this cycle.
Who know what I will do now? Forsaken, black book listed, amused no one. It’s all gone.
No one is willing to show what I will do. Doom shaken, hack. Will this be the last song?

just open your eyes a little further your not done till death grabs hold of you and swallows every last fiber of your excistance

keep on writin itll work out just fine

thanks. It just seams like every time i write something it gets worse and not better, is it just me?
I hate regressing.

it happens

how do you think i feel

feeling... *laughs*