Loss of Creativity

Written by: R C

You reside behind my eyeballs,
but you most enjoy paralyzing my fingertips.
You feast on the thought-clots 
plugging my brain.
You see what I once saw
because you watch what is stolen from me,
as I desperately grasp at what
was digested long ago.
When will my mind be freed?
When will my imagination be reborn?