Running out of ideas,

The concept is unclear,

The wonder in my imagination,

Has dissolved in thin air,

Battling to gasp the image,

I long to create,

 Nothing is distinctive,

Plots are predicted,

Enlightenment has disappeared,

My innovative vision seems plain,

More hurdles develop,

As I attempt to find a new embodiment,

My gifted path is concealed,

Abstract vision is untraceable,

Lacking any form of specialty,

Why has this happened to me?